The Reeducation of Victor Creed
by betaadamantium
Summary: Victor Creed is losing control of his bloodlust and comes under the care of the X-Men, ostensibly for rehabilitation. When he's injured during a fight with Logan he becomes a different man, maybe even a good man, but what about all the blood he's shed? Can formerly-villainous cats really change their stripes?
1. Chapter 1

_This is based in part on the comics circa 1993 when Birdy died and Creed lost control of his bloodlusts, setting up a trap for the X-Men so that he could get access to Xavier, as only a very strong telepath could control the pain brought on by his feral rages. As I found it rather skeevy for Creed's main proponent to be a teenager (Tabitha "Boomer" Smith in the comics), I decided to create a new character to explore his rehabilitation. I'm not dealing with Birdy's death or with Victor's son Graydon's death, it was more that I wanted to play with what happened if Victor Creed was altered as happened in the AXIS event in 2014. **This diverges pretty wildly from the comics, I'm really only using the bones to build my monster.**_

 _Jean is not in this fic, I've reached ahead to pull on the Emma/Scott pairing (I don't care for Jean as a character, she's ... boring). Let's just say she's died for the last time and is off doing whatever. Y'know, before Marvel brings her back again (March 2018 edit: I fuckin' told you she'd be back FUCK YOU MARVEL)._

 _It'll be set in modern day rather than the 1990s as the comics were. Holy cheese-fest otherwise (although in the current run of comics he's reverted to a bit of an antihero and he apparently likes cat memes so?)._

 _Last thing: Victor Creed is about the closest you can get to a wild animal with sentience, which means his violent outbursts and memories are pretty graphic._

* * *

The first indication something was wrong when Rae arrived back at the mansion from visiting family was the sort of hushed feeling, like someone had died and they were afraid to speak for fear of upsetting the ghost. Everyone seemed to be on edge, jumping at the slightest things; Hank had nearly gone through the roof when she walked into the kitchen the moment she got back, looking for a jolt of caffeine in the form of Mountain Dew.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked, slinging her bag off of her shoulder to thump at her feet. "You look like a scared cat, fur notwithstanding."

Hank pressed a hand to his chest as if that would slow down his heart rate, his face slightly pink with embarrassment. "You startled me is all." He gave her a peck on the cheek. "How was your journey home, my little librarian?"

"Cold." Rae grinned. "I forget sometimes how to dress when I go back, since summers in Alaska are more like fall here in New York. I end up coming back here with warmer clothing than what I packed to go back." She knew he'd deflected the answer to her question but let it go, it was entirely possible he was just nervous from working on the Legacy Virus, a project that always put him on edge. "Did I miss anything fun while I was gone?"

Had she not known him well she wouldn't have noticed the tick in his jaw that had appeared when she asked. "Just the usual mutant hijinks, Tabitha nearly blew up the Danger Room again."

"Much like every day she's in there." There was a reason that girl's codename was Boom-Boom. "As long as she doesn't hurt my library I find I'm not too concerned." A huge yawn threatened to crack her jaw, her hand automatically coming up to cover her mouth. "Holy crap, my body's telling me it's still on Alaska Standard Time, just like it was telling me it was still on Eastern time when I got to Hoonah. Gonna have to stay up all night just to get things right."

"Hence the caffeine."

She saluted him with the distinctive yellow-green plastic bottle. "Indeed. I'm gonna get settled back in, do some laundry. See you around?"

Hank waved a furry paw. "But of course. Come drag me out of my lab for dinner, would you?"

"Definitely." Rae stooped to pick up her bag again and left the kitchen, noting once again the weird silence and trying to chalk it up to summer vacation. The kids who had families to visit were doing so and likely some of the adults had taken off, too; she knew Scott and Emma were off somewhere beachy, Storm was in Kenya doing the weather goddess thing, and Logan was off doing God only knew what. Rogue and Remy had to be out doing something otherwise their raised voices would be filling the hallways with laughter and curses.

Down a flight of stairs she came to the laundry room with its industrial-sized machines in a neat row, several of them humming along. Her bag was crammed full, the zipper sticking a bit when she tried to open it so that the items inside burst out like stuffing from a wounded teddy bear when she finally got it undone. As she'd told Hank she'd returned to the mansion with more clothing than she'd left with, all of which now needed to be washed, so she busied herself with the mundane task of sorting lights and darks, putting in detergent and fabric softener. The one good thing about having laundry facilities among friends was you didn't have to worry that complete strangers were going to steal your stuff (except for the occasional lost panties which got blamed on the sock monster).

The caffeine she'd drunk was having its intended effect, buoying her for long enough that she actually felt like heading down to the Danger Room for a quick session. She stopped off at her room to change into workout clothing, loose pants she'd chopped off at the knee, a tanktop under a battered Captain America T-shirt, and sneakers; were she going for a full-on session she'd have worn her X-Men uniform, but she wouldn't need that for kickboxing. With her hair already in its customary braid she was ready.

Remy and Rogue were just coming out of the Danger Room when she made her way into the bowels of the mansion. They were bickering as usual, sounding more and more like an old married couple every time she heard them; both were sweaty and Remy's trademark trenchcoat looked a little worse for wear. This time the argument was over Remy trying to protect Rogue during their simulation which was ridiculous, really, when one remembered that Rogue was nigh-invincible and could hit with the force of a Mack truck. Male chivalry, when it popped up, was extremely hard to fight past, and it was even worse when said chivalrous male was in love.

Thankfully they stopped sniping when they saw Rae. "How was home?" Rogue asked, her face lighting up when she saw her friend. They hugged briefly, Rae protected by Rogue's full-body uniform and gloves. "Did ya miss us?"

"Not the arguing," Rae replied, going on tiptoe to kiss Remy on the cheek. "And home was good, I went fishing with my uncle, hunting with my cousins and some friends, and then got dragged out to my grandma's place to help her get ready for the solstice." She smiled, remembering the preparations; for all her grandmother insisted she was a good Orthodox Christian, she clung to the old ways and pulled Rae after her. Both women felt very strongly about not losing their heritage.

"You should come up with me sometime, you two, it's really beautiful there."

The two Southerners shivered, giving each other pained looks. "It be too cold up there for th' likes o' us, _chere_ ," Remy replied. "How 'bout ya jus' take some pictures an' we'll look at 'em?"

Rae snorted. "Whatever, Cajun. Did you guys leave the Danger Room intact or am I gonna have to find someplace else to exhaust myself?" There was always the gym down the hall, if it came down to it.

The two of them exchanged glances, trying to be surreptitious about it and failing when it took more than a couple seconds.

"Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on?" She shared her glare equally between them, arms crossing over her chest. "I came home and startled Hank in the kitchen, I swear I thought he was going to leap up and catch himself on the ceiling beams. Sneaking up on him is almost as hard as sneaking up on Logan and he gave me some line to put me off. Now." Rae glared harder. "What. Is going. On?"

Another glance between them before Rogue sighed. "She's gonna find out sooner or later," she said to Remy.

The Cajun nodded, his eyes flaring a deeper red for a moment. "We had some, uh, excitement while you were gone."

"Nothing new there, half the time I go home and someone's trying to destroy downtown Manhattan. The way Hank reacted makes me think you've got something nasty locked up down here."

Rogue gave a nervous little laugh. "Ya ain't far off there, sugah. C'mon, easier just to show ya." She gestured for Rae to follow, Remy bringing up the rear of their little group. Rogue led them down the hallway towards the holding cells, tension keeping her back ramrod straight instead of her usual loose gait, and Rae quickly saw the reason for it.

At first she wasn't sure what she was looking at, just a large body with long, unruly blonde hair, the captive's arm covering his face where he lay on his back on the floor. Something niggled at the back of her mind, some familiarity that flared to fearful life when a low, warning growl came from the captive.

"You punks come t' gawk?" the low, angry voice said.

 _"Victor Creed?"_ Rae took an involuntary step backwards when the hulk of a man unfolded himself to sit up, dark feral eyes glaring at them. "We've got _Victor Creed_ locked up in our basement? And none of you are dead yet?"

Creed chuckled, a wicked, deadly sound. "Not for lack o' tryin', frail. Care to step inside here so we can remedy that?"

"Shut up, _chien_ ," Remy replied.

"I'm more of a cat, I think."

Rogue turned her back on the prisoner with an exasperated huff. "Don't encourage 'im, Remy." She looked at Rae. "He killed a whole bunch o' people, worse 'n usual, an' one o' his ol' Team X buddies came along to ask for our help in catchin' him. Couldn't 'xactly say no, knowin' what might happen if'n we let him go loose."

Rae nodded. "Yeah, not like he hasn't already spilled enough blood." Some part of her wanted to look at the feral mutant that was staring at her, to meet his eyes; she knew he was doing it to get a reaction out of her and she hated that it was working. "How'd he end up here, though?"

The Southerners looked a bit sheepish. "He set up a trap for us in Japan an' we fell in," Rogue explained, "an' then he came here to see if Charles could help him. He said he needed a telepath to calm the bloodlust."

"So what, we're just gonna keep him here?"

"Xavier wants to rehabilitate him," Remy replied, his voice and body language clearly stating how he felt about that.

"Fat lot o' good that's gonna do with a guy who's been killin' longer 'n any of us has been alive," Rogue agreed. "But y'know how Charles, is, Remy. And y'know we all got the potential for darkness in us, waitin' for the right moment t' come out an' get us, twist us up into somethin' we never thought we'd be."

The Cajun looked away, knowing exactly what she was speaking of, the very thing that still put distance between he and the rest of the X-Men; his affiliation with Sinister and the Marauders that led to the slaughter of Morlocks was something he'd kept from his teammates for a very long time.

Rae was silent for a moment as she thought about it, putting pieces of the puzzle together. "Charles helped Logan get himself back together, helped him to work past the berserker rages and the bloodlust. If Logan hasn't entirely regained himself he's still made great strides towards maintaining his humanity."

"Only difference, frail," Creed answered for himself, "is that Logan wants t' be a man. Silly little Wolverine runnin' around like he ain't an animal."

"So there's nothing in you that wants to be better?" Rae took back the step she'd taken away, coming within a couple feet of the phased disruption forcefield keeping him in, necessary for keeping in a superhuman who could likely benchpress Volkswagens. His eyes followed her, never wavering. "You came here to get Xavier to help you."

He growled at her, baring long, sharp incisors.

Rae snorted. "I've seen Logan's teeth, sparky, yours don't impress me."

"I don't think ya should taunt 'im, sugah," Rogue said quietly. She touched Remy's arm. "We should get goin', I'm starvin' and I'm sure Rae'd like to get on with her workout."

"Will ya be okay here, _petit_ _e?"_ he asked Rae, looking between her and Creed.

She nodded. "Yeah, sweetie, I'll be fine. You guys go on." She shooed them away, watching them go before her eyes drifted back to Creed's. "You didn't answer my question."

"I came here to kill him."

Her eyes went wide. "Um. What? How does that even make sense?"

He growled at her again, this time in frustration. "You gonna talk me to death, frail?" he asked, shifting so that he was lying down again. The cell he was in was sparse, with no bed, merely a pallet on the floor with some blankets and pillows. He was afforded a little privacy with a screen hiding the toilet but other than that the cell was bare, the same cold, hard silver material the rest of the sub-basement was made out of. "'Cause I ain't exactly interested."

"No wonder Logan thinks you're worthless."

Creed's mouth curved into a slow smile. "Oh, you don't think that," he practically purred. "I can smell the lie on ya **,** makes your scent go all sour. Y'don't think I'm beyond savin'."

Rae's eyes narrowed. She'd forgotten that he had the same enhanced sense of smell that Logan did, allowing them to act as lie detectors, and she didn't like that he could read her that way. "I've been known to be wrong before, Sabretooth, just because I believe in the intrinsic goodness in people doesn't mean you're a good person."

"You're right, but you still wanna believe." He chuckled. "It's kinda cute. Mostly pathetic, but kinda cute. All you girls are the same, y'see a bad boy and y'think you can turn him into a good boy, all they need is some lovin'. So whaddaya say, frail, wanna come in here and see if you're good enough to change me? Maybe a good fuck is all I need."

His words shouldn't have been so shocking, she knew what kind of man he was, knew the kinds of things he'd done and was fully capable of, but that didn't prepare her for hearing it first hand. "You wouldn't be able to get it up anyway, Creed. I'm not your type, I'm not bleeding out on the floor."

"You're my type, little one, you got a pulse an' everything. An' ya look a lot like one o' Logan's women I killed way back when, pretty squaw just like you."

The racial slur slid right on past in light of the rest of what he was saying. She knew she shouldn't be baiting him, shouldn't be trying to provoke a reaction out of him. Some part of her was testing to see if there really was something worth saving, something that could be redeemed so that he wouldn't need to be put down like a dog; that's what the outcome would be when Logan came back and discovered who they were housing. She cringed to think of that, of the bloodshed that would ensue.

With an angry, frustrated sigh, she turned on her heel and headed back down the hall to the Danger Room.

"Whatsamatter, frail?" he called after her. "You bothered knowin' I'm down here, thinkin' about killin' all your friends and family?"

The doors slid shut behind her and cut off anything else he may have said. Rae blew out a breath of relief and realized she was shaking from anger and fear, all reactions to both Creed's words and presence. She trusted that Xavier knew what he was doing, that the security measures in place would keep him there, but even with all the trust in the world it was terrifying to know that a self-proclaimed serial killer was lurking almost literally beneath your bed.

Her eyes closed as she came to a stop near the center of the room, drawing breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, just like Logan had taught her. She forced herself to concentrate on that physical act, counting the seconds between breaths, her heart slowing down with each passing moment until she opened her eyes and found she wasn't shaking anymore.

"Computer," she called out, "initiate program Logan gamma, level two, safety on. Add in Raina mix, track two." After years of watching Star Trek she still half-expected a response from a smooth female voice but here there was nothing, just compliance.

The Danger Room dissolved from its familiar silver curves to a small dojo. In the middle of the floor were mats designed to break falls, the floor around that bare, with various weapons and _kanji_ scrolls decorating the walls; it was supposed to be a fair replica of a dojo Logan had studied in once upon a time, down to the cranky _sensei_ who seemed to take delight in watching his students make fools of themselves. With her own _sensei_ still a few days away from coming home (and in no condition to train with her anyway), she called up the first holopponent, bending to remove shoes and socks which she placed carefully aside before flopping down onto the floor to wrap her feet and hands with tape.

A few quick stretches later and she felt limber enough to bounce back up and take on her holopponent, a man her own size with proportionate skill, someone she couldn't beat or be defeated by easily. For a time she lost herself in the back and forth movement, hands and feet striking quickly, circling and weaving looking for openings, while music played over the system to help her find her rhythm. She'd always worked better with music in all aspects of her life, from schoolwork to cleaning to fighting, even on to more intimate things, each one having its own type of music.

Here it was that somewhat obnoxious genre of rap/rock that most people said they hated but secretly listened to on their ipods. Linkin Park predominated on her fight mix for its aggressive, fast words and music, lending itself to what she was currently doing.

The AI was excellent, responding perfectly to her attacks like a real person would, and the contact between bodies was just as realistic. Her fist took him in the jaw and rocked his head back, following up with a kick to the shoulder before she danced back, fists held up to protect her head from blows as he advanced on her. Just like fighting a real person she found she could watch the fighting style, find openings in his form and technique, then use those against him: he favored his left side, feinting to the right and attacking from the left to keep it protected.

When he aimed a left cross at her she grabbed his arm as it went past where her head had been, twisting it up behind him and bringing her knee up into his now-unprotected left side. He went down like a sack of bricks and stayed there, weirdly silent for what she'd just done to him, but he hadn't been programmed to that extent.

"Computer, remove level two holopponent, bring up level three. Advance Raina mix to track six." The Danger Room did its thing and suddenly she was facing a woman a little bigger than her, closer to Ororo in height and not all that dissimilar in coloring; she could have been the Windrider's twin save for the difference in hair and eye color. Rae wasted no time in attacking as Metallica's "Fuel" blasted over the sound system and she matched her speed with the fast pace of the song, suddenly feeling the need to be more aggressive. The holopponent reacted accordingly, giving as good as it got, landing almost twice as many blows as level two. One in particular, a kick that clipped her ear, made her see stars enough that she dropped to one knee on the mat, breathing hard and trying not to puke.

"Halt!" she shouted. The holopponent went still, freezing in mid-lunge while Rae gagged on hands and knees. She stumbled to her feet then out the door, across the hallway to the bathroom where she lost what she'd eaten for lunch; as a child she'd had many inner ear problems and now in adulthood, if she got hit the right way in the head, her equilibrium would be knocked off balance. Flying at high altitude for many hours likely hadn't helped any. It was never pleasant and frequently put her down for at least a day for recovery.

She ran cold water to rinse out her mouth before she went back and turned the dojo program off, grabbing her shoes and socks from the floor.

"Get your ass handed to ya?" came Creed's voice as she emerged again, still fighting the urge to gag. The room was doing a slow spin and as much as she didn't want to show weakness in front of him, the need to stop and lean against the wall was too strong. She pressed her forehead to the cool metal and prayed to melt into the floor.

"Aw, c'mon, frail. The least you could do is play the wounded gazelle over here where I can get the full effect."

"Shut your mouth, Victor." Hank's voice was angry coming to her rescue. "No one wants to hear what you have to say."

A low, chuckling growl carried down the hall. "Doesn't mean it don't affect the lot o' ya."

Hank ignored him and turned to Rae. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She waffled her hand back and forth in lieu of doing it with her head. "Took a kick to the head, it screwed me up a little." She winced and tried to pull away when he pulled a small penlight from his coat pocket and shined it in her eyes. "Geez, Hank, warn a girl first."

"Checking your pupils for concussion," he explained, making a pleased little "hmm" when he found the results favorable. "If you can make it to the elevator, we'll get you upstairs and in bed. I can give you something for the nausea."

"Sounds spiffy." She leaned on him, heavily, feet shuffling and refusing to move properly with her balance off-kilter. "Thanks," she said slowly.

Hank patted her hand on his arm. "Never a problem, my dear. I do wish you'd be a little more careful sometimes."

"Don't we both?" Speaking took too much effort so she remained silent as Hank got her upstairs, leaving her to undress while he went back down and got the promised medication. She'd crawled into bed by the time he returned and was asleep almost before he left the room again.

Her dreams were a muddle of strange things, but the running theme seemed to involve a monster in the closet.


	2. Chapter 2

There were 400 ceiling tiles, all of that blasted silver material that the X-Men's little hideaway was made of, and he was sick of looking at them. They were 10 feet overhead so that he couldn't reach them even on his tiptoes and he wasn't about to do something so idiotic, but even if he had, his keen eyesight told him the joins were airtight. Even his claws wouldn't be able to wiggle between them to pry one loose, and that was assuming there was anything above them.

The air conditioner ran on approximately 32 minute cycles, apparently timed instead of triggered by a drop or rise in temperature. He guessed it was about 65 degrees down here, not that it bothered him either way, he could endure sub-zero temperatures without much trouble.

The so-called bed didn't bother him, either. He did miss his featherbed back home but compared to sleeping on the flat ground this was nothing.

No, none of that was a problem. The boredom, though, that's what was going to kill him. He was going to go slowly insane and end up bashing his head in on the wall. Going from having the entire world as his hunting ground to a 20' by 20' cell was maddening, infuriating, degrading.

Victor Creed's internal clock never failed him, which didn't do him a whole lot of good underground where he saw neither sunrise nor sunset. He never thought he'd take those things for granted, the simplicity of fresh air over recycled, natural light over harsh halogen (though at least he had the option of turning off the lights when he slept, he'd been in cells before where the lights were on 24/7), even the feel of grass and trees instead of smooth metal.

Pacing had gotten old real quick, and he was sure he'd have run a rut into the ground were the floor not so durable. Punching the walls didn't make much of a difference, either, leaving only the faintest of marks behind, and the only evidence he'd done anything was damage to his knuckles which faded within seconds.

Hell, even taunting anyone who came within earshot wasn't a hell of a lot of fun, and since the night before and his encounter with the Native American woman, no one else had been down. Her scent had already faded, dissolving until nothing but sterility was left. For a man who relied on his senses so much the lack of scent was truly bothersome.

He knew it was morning, around nine, and his assumption was confirmed when he heard the soft rush of air heralding the arrival of the elevator on this level. He felt his mouth watering at the smell of breakfast, heavy on protein with bacon and sausage, the sweeter scent of oatmeal with honey and brown sugar just below that, then underscored with the bitterness of coffee. Tabitha Smith came into view, her blonde bob swinging with her steps.

"Mornin'," she greeted rather cheerfully. She pulled open the small door on her side and set the tray of food inside on the ledge before closing it; she was safe from any attacks on his part by dint of the fact that the door on his side wouldn't open when the outer door was ajar. "Sorry I'm a little late, got waylaid by one of my teammates."

With a deliberate show of nonchalance, Victor got up from his seat on the floor and made his way to the food, ignoring the girl's chatter until she mentioned being late. "You ain't late, it's nine."

"It's eleven, actually."

The shock of hearing that stopped his movement of fixing his coffee; how had he lost two hours? _I'm goin' insane_ he thought.

"Uh, you okay?" Tabitha asked.

The thought of showing any weakness grated on his nerves, but he had to ask. "How long I been down here?"

She tucked her hair back behind her ear, the hesitation quick but noticeable to one such as him. "Two weeks. Why?"

Two weeks? His brain was telling him it had only been one. Where the hell was the time going?

"Uh, Creed, your hand is bleeding."

He looked down where his right hand was gripping a spoon hard enough that it had cut into his skin, a neat trick for such a blunt object. He eased his grip and felt the wound heal up, leaving blood to drip down onto the floor. "Is someone messin' with my head?" he growled.

"Well, the Professor's been working with you almost every day, trying to sort through your memories. Sometimes having him in your head makes you feel weird, like time's passing when it shouldn't." She shrugged. "Listen, you want some books or magazines or something? I know when there's nothing else to do that can help make it feel like you're not going crazy, gives your mind something to focus on."

Victor looked up at her and pulled air in through his nose, catching more of her scent. She smelled like some fruity body wash, strong enough to make his head hurt, but he was more interested in her motives. Her scent told him she felt sorry for him and already his mind was working out ways to take advantage of that. "Could do," he agreed slowly. "Maybe a TV, too?"

She cocked her head to the side. "I'll see what I can do. I can at least bring you some books when I bring your lunch."

"Hey." She stopped halfway down the corridor, turning to look at him again. "How come you're the only one bringin' me food?"

Tabitha shrugged. "No one else volunteered and Xavier said we can't let you starve." With that she left, disappearing into the elevator.

He picked up the tray and brought it to a clear space on the floor, sitting down tailor fashion and digging in to his breakfast. He could say one thing for this captivity, they weren't trying to starve him or control him through lack of food. But that's what you got with a bunch of bleeding hearts.

By the time he finished he could feel the darkest part of him surfacing again, the part he couldn't control and didn't really think he wanted to. He'd embraced his animal a long time ago and accepted his role at the top of the food chain, partially subscribing to the view that _homo sapiens superior_ were the next step in evolution while also seeing himself, a predator, as the king of the jungle so to speak. Why else would he have the ability to kill so easily? His claws and teeth were made for rending and tearing flesh and bone -

 _"You got the devil in you, boy." Blinding pain in his mouth, fingers digging into his jaw to hold him steady while his father rips out his canine teeth with pliers. "If I pull out enough, one day these Satan teeth ain't gonna come back."_

Victor expected to see blood dripping down his chin, onto his shirt, but there was nothing. It was one of his earliest memories, part of his mutation being physical and manifesting very early on, and he'd killed his brother over a piece of pie. There was still a part of him that didn't understand why that was a bad thing, he was only playing with Luther and didn't mean to hurt him, but sometimes bad things happened. It was then he'd been chained in the cellar like a dog, starting him on that long, dark road to no longer viewing himself as a human being. If his own parents could call him an animal, then wasn't that what he was?

Locked for a year in that cellar he'd dreamed up a lot of awful things, mostly fantasies of breaking free and going on a rampage, showing his father just what kind of animal he was. He bided his time while his body grew stronger, passing through puberty when the rest of his mutation came to fruition, leaving him with razor-sharp claws, increased strength, and a healing factor. He hadn't known about that last one until after he'd gnawed off his own hand in escaping, and then he'd had his revenge.

The memory of blood and screaming was like a lullaby to him, a beautiful, comforting thing that could ease him into sleep if he thought about it long enough. He craved it, that copper scent like a new penny, and the more meaty scent of flesh, the dark, rich taste of arterial blood ... Sometimes thinking about it had the opposite effect of arousing him, making him painfully hard with the need for release, but down here there was nothing to do about it, so he pushed that down and let his eyes drift closed as he sat with his back against the wall, let the memory wash over him. It was better than going back to counting ceiling tiles.

Time passed and the sound of the elevator arriving again made him think it was lunchtime, which meant Tabitha was back, but he got different scents before he saw their owners: subtle cologne and aftershave overpowering sea water and pine needles, which meant the Professor and the squaw. Hard to think of her as anything else, she was what she was.

Xavier was dressed as usual in a three piece suit, gray today with a red tie that had a subtle pattern of gray diamonds. He had a tartan afghan thrown over his legs, his impeccable shoes peeking out beneath. His dark eyebrows always made him look a little startled without hair on his head to soften them.

The woman was more casual in jeans that had a hole in one knee and a faded gray NYU hoodie, and he was slightly surprised to see she was barefoot, a slim silver ring on one of her left toes. Her hair was in a braid like the last time he'd seen her, sleek and almost but not quite black. In her left ear he could see a long barbell that pierced the top of her ear and then a little further down.

She gave Victor slightly-bored dark brown eyes that on anyone else might make him think they were faking calm but her scent didn't betray any fear or anxiety. Apparently he hadn't rattled her as much as he'd thought.

"Here for the daily tromp through my brainpan?" Victor asked, still sitting comfortably up against the wall. He drew one knee up and draped his arm over it, adding to the casual air. He'd never admit that it actually kind of terrified him knowing someone could get into his head. "An' don't you usually bring someone with you that's strong enough to take me down?"

Xavier managed a grim smile. "Rae is more than capable, Victor, not that you need to worry about that. Now, if you wouldn't mind behaving yourself, we'll deactivate the forcefield."

Rae stepped forward and placed her palm flat against the sensor on the wall. When the computer dispassionately asked for voiceprint identification, she said, "Raina Petrova, codename Aura."

"Voiceprint confirmed. Please make a selection."

She pressed a few buttons and the forcefield blinked out of existence, taking with it the faintest of humming noises that was almost too soft even for Victor to hear. He watched her move back to stand beside Xavier, hands going into the front pocket of her hoodie.

"Where we goin'?" Victor rose gracefully to his feet. Normally he wasn't so amenable, instead practically forcing Xavier to pin him down (so to speak) and force the mind link on him. He knew it bothered the telepath which was exactly why he did it. He hadn't been let out of his cell yet, though, and any chance at some freedom was better than nothing.

Instead of answering, Xavier gestured for Victor to follow Rae, who was moving down the corridor towards the Danger Room. She stopped just outside of it and tapped something into the controls. The door slid open a moment later and the three of them trooped in.

The room had been transformed into a close facsimile of the mansion's grounds, the path from the door heading into the expansive forest that backed up onto the school. Various woodland creatures, squirrels and birds and rabbits, flitted in and out of sight down that path, chattering and calling just like the real things, and it was almost enough to fool Victor. The smells were the same but it was all overlaid with the stale scent of recycled air.

"Wouldn't goin' outside be just as good?"

"We cannot allow you access to the outside, Victor," Charles explained in his cultured, even tones. "I have, however, decided to grant you the freedom of remaining in this holographic projection, giving you the option of roaming here instead of being cooped up inside of that cell."

"Still a prison no matter how you dress it up."

Rae made a disgusted sort of noise. "It's either this or we give you to the government. Would you honestly rather be locked up in a maximum security cell at the Vault?"

Victor huffed at her, smirking a little. "Ain't seein' much of a difference, either way I'm surrounded by people that hate me." Not that he cared aside from the fact that hate actually had a smell - rancid and oily - and it gave him a headache. He moved farther inside the projection, closed his eyes as sunlight broke through the trees and hit his face, giving him a warmth he hadn't felt in weeks.

"The Vault, however, is not going to give you the chance to change your ways, or look for a way to cure you of your murderous rampages," Charles said. "But believe me, I do not intend to turn you loose on the world once we have accomplished that. You will be punished for your crimes, made to pay dearly for the lives you've taken."

The feral mutant opened his eyes and snorted. "Like I'm afraid o' you, Charlie," he said, eyeing the crippled man.

"You should be." There was steel underlining the Professor's words for all his tone was still even and calm. It made his blue eyes seem cold. "The killing is going to end, no matter what it takes."

"We'll see."

Xavier was silent a moment before gesturing for Victor to make himself comfortable. "I'd like to begin our session, Victor."

He loped over to a tree and flopped down beneath it, not so much an acquiescence as just figuring it took more effort to argue than to do as asked. The grass felt real, slightly cool to the touch in the shade, as did the bark of the tree against his back, rough and sticking out at random angles, and it was all better than that cell. He couldn't deny that no matter how much he'd rather be outside, smelling fresh air and feeling actual sunlight. A rabbit caught his eye, the small creature seemingly oblivious to the humans in its territory and showing little fear, hopping within a foot of Rae.

She seemed to sense where his attention was and gave him a look. "You're not here to hunt," she said.

"Rae." Xavier touched her arm. They seemed to be having some kind of telepathic conversation, looking at each other but not speaking out loud, her scent spiking for a moment before she finally relaxed and nodded. "Thank you."

With more grace than Victor expected, she walked to a nearby tree and grabbed onto a low branch, hauling herself up easily despite her bare feet. She settled herself, straddling the branch so that her feet hung down, her back supported by the trunk. Her eyes closed but Victor could tell she was still aware, her body gaining a slight tension that spoke of alertness.

"Let's get on with it," he said to Xavier.

* * *

 _The mindscape inside Creed's head was horrible, always the same every time Xavier found himself inside of it. The walls were the dark red of old blood and he could hear the cries of Creed's victims coming from the dark edges, flying down these corridors like a howling wraith, and if he looked hard enough he could see them. It seemed only fitting that the feral's madness was focused so much on the dead. It gave Xavier hope to know that he placed at least some value on human life, even if the value was his own use of them. That he remembered the dead at all was promising._

Two weeks in, though, they weren't making much progress. The memories might be different every time he went in, jumping from experiences with Team X to visions of his first few years on his own, but they always came back to the small, dank cellar of Creed's childhood. At first Xavier had thought it was a place where he felt safe, a haven despite the horrible things that had happened to him down there. He could understand that.

He came to find, though, that what this placed served as was a place when Creed truly found himself to be blameless. He'd never understood why killing his brother Luther was a bad thing, and after all he was just a kid. Weren't kids always let off easy? It would just be a slap on the wrist, a talking-to, and all would be fine. And even when that hadn't happened, when he'd been chained up, he'd refused to see the wrong in his actions.

The first time that Xavier found the memory of his parents' deaths, he hadn't been able to watch. It was just too brutal, to sickening, because as it played he also felt Creed's bloodlust and sheer joy at the act, the almost loving detail with which it was remembered. Part of him felt it dishonorable to not be able to watch what was done to them, more on behalf of Creed's mother who'd done nothing to deserve such brutality than on that of Creed's father - it was easy to see where the violence had come from, the sheer meanness and lack of regard for human life. The elder Creed was as evil as a normal human could get, taking out his anger on his family and expecting them to take it because he was head of the household, and his word was law.

It didn't excuse was Victor grew into, though. Nothing could do that. And as Xavier had told him, it didn't matter whether or not they cured him of the killing lusts - he was going to be punished for his transgressions. There was too much blood on his hands and too little remorse to do otherwise.

 _The boy looked up from his seat in the dirt of the cellar, amber eyes glinting in the dim light. "Why you keep comin' back here, old man?" he asked, his voice already carrying some of the tones he'd gain in adulthood. "Ain't like you're helpin' anything."_

 _Xavier knelt down, here on the astral plane where he had full control of his body. "I won't be able to help you, Victor, until you begin to accept that you want help. At the very least it will gain you a measure of control over yourself, you won't be a slave to the bloodlust that has cost so many lives. We need to break your addiction to it."_

 _"I like it."_

 _"I know, and that is what we must remedy." Each time Xavier came here there was a white rabbit hopping around as such creatures did, having been thrown down to Victor by his father; he was told he could only eat what he could catch, otherwise he didn't eat. "You obviously understand the value of human life otherwise your consciousness would not revolve around the deaths of your numerous victims. You understand that none of them deserved their fates at your hands."_

 _"Can't control it." The boy was stubborn, sticking out his chin in defiance. "It's too strong, feels like it's holdin' me down while it does what it wants."_

 _Xavier sighed, reaching out to touch the boy only to have him shrink from that touch. "And that is no longer an acceptable excuse, Victor. You insist on hanging onto that like a security blanket when you must face it and accept what you've done. Only then will the pain of the bloodlust dissipate and allow you freedom."_

 _"You ain't like Birdy," the boy said, for the millionth time. The blonde telepath had taken away the pain with "the glow," a focused psi-bolt that brought Creed back under control of himself, and he had been expecting Xavier to do the same. "It'd be easier."_

 _"For you, perhaps." Xavier rose to his feet. "We will continue to do this, Victor, until you learn to live with it."_

* * *

Victor opened his eyes to find Rae dropping out of her tree, crouching a moment on all fours like a cat as she caught herself gracefully before standing and going to Xavier. The old man was rubbing at his temples like he had a headache.

"You may remain here until further notice," Xavier told him. "I will see you tomorrow for our next session."

"Logan's coming home," Rae said, voice pitched low, but not low enough for Victor to miss as the two of them walked away. "He doesn't know about this yet and he's not gonna be happy."

"I will speak to Logan and make him understand. I will not abide this idiotic grudge between the two of them, not in my house."

 _Good luck with that, Charlie_ , Victor thought, a brief smile crossing his lips. When the doors closed behind them he got up and loped off, needing to explore the boundaries of his new prison.


	3. Chapter 3

The tension levels in the mansion hadn't abated much, everyone walking around like they expected Sabretooth to come jumping out of the shadows and attack them at any moment. It wasn't a completely baseless or unfounded worry, and not one of the mansion's residents could be faulted for being irritable that they felt unsafe in their own home, not when the place had been infiltrated on more than one occasion. Even knowing that Creed was locked up and being monitored at all times of the day wasn't enough to keep some of them from being skittish.

Rae was exceedingly glad she wasn't a psi or in possession of enhanced senses so she avoided picking up the worst of the unease. The basic human sixth sense caught enough of it to make her feel like someone was always watching her, unseen eyes boring into her back and making the skin there want to crawl up and hide in her hair. More than once she'd caught herself releasing her pheromones to calm everyone nearby, semi-unconsciously, just to save herself the creepy feeling.

On alternate days she went with Xavier for his psychic sessions, trading with Rogue and anyone else they could convince to go along. No one was eager but there were days that neither one could accompany the Professor, and he couldn't be left alone no matter how strong a telepath he was.

Training with the X-Men had resumed, Creed needing to be moved back to the holding cell whenever the Danger Room was needed, and Rae threw herself back into the swing of things. The holograms reacted to her pheromones the same way that real people would but that wasn't the only skill in her arsenal: she'd been trained in martial arts and firearms by some of the best, and between Betsy, Logan, and Domino she could hold her own. She prided herself on her ability to defend herself without use of her powers, never knowing when or if they'd fail her in battle.

Today the Danger Room was transformed into downtown Manhattan, a perfect replica down to the smells and the sounds. Their quarry was a group of Prime Sentinels, similar to the regular Sentinels save for the fact they were cyborgs created from real humans, made to be indistinguishable from people until a mutant in the vicinity used their gift and activated the Prime's programming. Despite their size they were almost more intimidating from their larger brethren because they weren't obvious until it was almost too late.

"Rogue, fly me up there!" Rae shouted, pointing towards the roof of one of the lower buildings. She shoved her semi-automatic back into its holster under her arm and lifted her hands so that her teammate could catch her on a low fly-by, ducking and rolling when she was deposited on top of the building. Her weapon was out and back in her hand almost immediately as she sprinted to the edge to look over.

Storm came flying up out of the alley shooting bolts of lightning, her eyes whited over with her elemental power and her hair floating about her face with the wind she commanded to hold her aloft. And directly behind her, lifting off the ground with the aid of a propulsion pack, was one of the Primes.

Rae took aim with her gun, squeezing off a few rounds that didn't do much to deter the Sentinel, one bullet bouncing harmlessly off of the cybernetic armor and ricocheting just wide of her leg. "Shit!" she cursed, even as the Windrider took notice of the creature behind her and sent him spinning away with a mini-tornado. He slammed into the brick facing of a building and fell to the ground, down for the count.

"Some help over here!" she heard the voice of Jubilee call out followed quickly by the girl's fireworks exploding, and she took off running again across the roof.

Beast was running across the opposite roof but, unlike her, he could jump down harmlessly. He saw her coming and shouted, "I'll catch you!"

With barely a second to worry over what could go wrong, Rae leapt and collided with him mid-air, her arms wrapping around his neck to hold on as they plummeted. He bounced off the building she'd been on and then landed as though he'd done little more than jump the last couple steps on a staircase. "Thanks," she told him, disengaging and heading towards Jubilee.

The Asian girl was backed down by two of the Primes, her fireworks doing little to dissuade them from advancing.

"Left!" Rae called, leaving the one on the right to Beast. She kicked out at the Prime's spine, having found they suffered some of the same weaknesses as humans. It stumbled and tried to turn and she took it in the chin with her elbow, spinning another kick to take it in the chest. The Prime caught her foot and pulled, trying to take her off-balance but she used the momentum to scissor her other leg up into its face.

They both went down, Rae falling hard on her hip and growling out a curse. The Prime struggled back up and got a face full of hot lead for its troubles before her gun clicked on empty.

Beast and Jubilee had taken care of the second Prime and apparently the rest of the team had succeeded because the Danger Room faded back into its familiar silver walls. Rogue and Storm powered down and landed one right after the other. Emma and Scott appeared from the left, the telepath leaning against her lover.

"You okay, Emma?" Rae asked.

"Just twisted my ankle, darling, nothing some ice and ibuprofen won't cure."

"Good job today," Scott praised the team as they stepped out into the corridor. "I think tomorrow I might start splitting you up into teams of two and having you go in with X-Force, the kids could use the practice with the heavy hitters. I'll have a schedule and roster up in the morning."

"I call Rogue!" Rae said, hooking her arm with the Southern belle's.

It wasn't obvious behind his visor but Scott rolled his eyes anyway, the tilt of his head and the smirk on his lips conveying it well enough. "We'll see. Speaking of which, the two of you can take our guest back to the Danger Room, I need to get Emma into the medlab."

"Can't we just Rock, Paper, Scissors for it?" Rae complained.

That got a bit of a glare. "It's not a game, Rae, we need to take this seriously."

Rogue gave her a squeeze. "C'mon, girl, let's get it over with. Sooner we're done the sooner we can rustle up some lunch."

Rae sneered. "That's assuming I still have an appetite after dealing with him." As they rounded the bend where the cells were there was a crash, a sound like someone being electrocuted, and then the sound of a body hitting the floor.

"What in tarnation -?" Rogue asked, sprinting the last couple steps with Rae on her heels. They found Creed lying on the floor of his cell, his skin and what was left of his hair smoking in his attempt to get through the forcefield. The forcefield itself was crackling a bit before it thrummed back into full power and became completely invisible again.

Creed was chuckling as he rolled over onto his back, his chest heaving with the exertion.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" Rae demanded, the gun from her thigh holster in her hands through sheer instinct despite the fact he could have taken the whole clip's worth of bullets without flinching. She watched him rise onto his knees, saw the rapid healing of his skin like a stop-motion picture watched at full speed. His hair would take slightly longer to grow back, not being an essential body part.

"Goin' a little stir-crazy in here, frail, gotta do somethin' to pass the time."

"Yer insane," Rogue told him, hands on her hips. "If ya gonna keep actin' like that, kitty-cat, we'll just leave ya in here to rot for the night."

Rae lowered her weapon but kept it in her hand. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but he might end up killing himself if we leave him in here. Better to take him back to the Danger Room with the safeties on. Charles wouldn't be too happy to find out we let him hurt himself."

Rogue _hmmphed_ at her but nodded her head. "Yer right, Rae. I certainly don't wanna be the one tellin' Xavier we let his pet project die."

"Stop talkin' about me like I ain't here."

The two women looked at him, both with raised eyebrows. Rae gave authorization for the forcefield to be lowered while Rogue positioned herself to take on anything Creed could throw at her, but he merely got to his feet and shook himself, his eyes closing for a moment as a large patch of skin on his face knit back together. "We goin' or what?" he asked.

"Ho-kay then," Rae muttered, gesturing for Rogue to go on ahead. She thumbed the safety back on but kept her finger near it, holding the gun in a teacup grip slightly off to her right, and she followed Creed back down the corridor towards the Danger Room where her teammate was keying in the holographic program of the mansion's grounds. The doors slid open a moment later to reveal the verdant land.

"Well, get goin'," Rogue said, shooing him inside. When he went in and the doors shut behind him, the two women shared a look. "Ya think someone should hang around the control room an' keep an eye on 'im?"

Rae's answer was to hold her hand up in a fist. "Roll ya for it," she said, grinning. Her grin faltered when she lost, paper to rock. "I hate you."

"Yer the one always wants to play that silly game, sugah." She patted Rae on the cheek. "I'll have Tabby bring ya some lunch."

"Rassum frassum," Rae muttered. She went into the locker room for her cleaning kit before trudging up the stairs to the control room.

It looked like something out of a science fiction novel, which wasn't too far off considering it was alien technology, a gift from Xavier's Shi'ar sweetheart, Empress Lilandra. Various buttons were lit up like a Christmas tree in greens and pinks and blues, showing different functions either on or off, and luckily none of them beeped except when someone pushed them. Rae pressed one now, opening the protective shield over the window that allowed her to look down on the Danger Room, though from up here it was a whole lot of trees and not much else. She couldn't see Creed at all, the feral mutant having gone into the forest as he usually did.

"Where are you, kitty cat?" she asked rhetorically, flopping down in the chair at the console. Another button brought up a schematic of the room on a large screen, sensors showing her just where he was, and abruptly the scenery below changed in relation to his presence at the holographic boathouse. The whole thing was done to scale which meant he'd run several miles in just a handful of minutes, the distance from the mansion itself to Spuyten Duyvil Cove, and he wasn't even breathing hard; the sensors also gave a readout of his respiration rate and body temperature, only the latter of which was above normal but still within normal range for someone with a healing factor. She'd seen data on Logan and knew he ran hot, too.

Rae cocked her head to the side and watched him stand there motionless for a few minutes, staring out over the water, at what she couldn't guess. She actually jumped a little when he finally moved. "What the -?" she asked, again rhetorically, as he pulled his shirt over his head. Her head tilted farther to the side in a complete inability to take her eyes off of him, still watching when he shucked his jeans and dove into the water.

 _Why the hell am I checking out a serial killer?_ she wondered. "Celibate too long," she said under her breath.

"What?"

She jumped and nearly fell out of the chair, spinning in her seat to find Tabitha standing in the doorway. "Jesus Christ, girl, make some noise next time."

"Sorry," the young mutant said. She lifted the two trays of food she was carrying. "Miss Rogue asked me to bring you some food, and I've got Victor's food, too. I'll go take it down to him."

"Um." Rae glanced back out the window where Creed had surfaced and was lazily pulling himself through the water with strong strokes. "Probably not a good idea right now, Tabby, he was acting kind of off earlier. Just set it down on the table and I'll make sure he gets it." She stripped off her gauntlets and fingerless gloves and placed them on the console.

The girl did as asked but remained standing in the doorway, looking like she wanted to say something.

Rae ignored her for a few moments, instead focusing on cleaning the gun under her left arm, the only one she'd used in the Danger Room scenario. She jacked the magazine out, pulled the slide to make sure the chamber was clear and the weapon was completely unloaded; Domino had stressed importance on that and hammered it into her by going on a lengthy diatribe complete with graphic explanation on what could happen if she tried to clean a loaded gun. The leader of X-Force had even jokingly suggested having Logan demonstrate just why it was bad since he could heal the damage. She'd gotten a growl for her efforts.

"How long do you think he'll be here?" Tabitha finally asked.

Rae shrugged, pushing off the floor so that her chair rolled over to the table where she could take her gun apart. "No clue, Tabby," she said as she dug in her kit for a clean towel that she laid out before she methodically stripped the gun. "As long as it takes for the professor to do what needs doing." She always placed the pieces so that they were in the same relative position while together, partially because that's how she'd been taught and partially because she liked being able to keep everything in order. She used another clean rag to wipe everything down and then put solvent on the parts that needed it.

"Why?" she asked as she leaned back in the chair, stretching her arms over her head. "And how come you're the one who always brings his food?" She was a little worried about the answer and hoped the girl didn't have some messed up crush.

Tabitha half-shrugged and kicked her toe against the floor, making a little squeaking noise when rubber contacted vinyl. "I dunno, he just - everyone says he's this horrible killer and I think maybe he wants to get better. He came here, after all, looking for the professor, didn't he? That means he wants help, he wants to change."

The older woman blinked and flexed her hands, knuckles popping like gunfire in the small room. She studied the girl a moment before answering. "Yes, he came here for help, but he's been defensive and not at all helpful in his so-called recovery. He fights Xavier at every turn." Slightly uncomfortable with the line of discussion she turned back to her gun, picking up a used toothbrush to scrub away the caked on carbon where the solvent had loosened it. "It's not something you need to worry about, Tabby, the X-Men have it under control."

The girl sighed, a puff of air. "So you don't think he can be rehabilitated?"

"That's up to him, hon. A killer can't reform unless he's willing and, so far, Victor Creed hasn't shown himself to be so. The professor won't give up on him, though."

That apparently satisfied the X-Factor member as she nodded, setting her hair swinging. "Alright, I guess I'll get back upstairs, then."

"Thanks for the food," Rae called as the girl left. "What the hell was that about?" she asked herself and paid her full attention to the gun. She'd take Creed's food down when she was finished.

A good half hour passed in blissful silence, the act of cleaning her gun creating an almost Zen-like state of meditation in which she moved almost on auto-pilot, the motions so ingrained in her that she didn't really have to think about it. Under her breath she began humming a song her grandmother had sung to get a young Rae to sleep; why it should pop into her mind now, she didn't know, but she didn't let that bother her. When she was finished she replaced her gun in its holster and cleaned her hands off, then bundled everything up in one big towel and shoved it back in the bag she kept her kit in, to be disposed of or cleaned later.

"Well, guess I can't wait anymore," she said, looking out the window into the Danger Room. Creed had at least put his pants back on and was sunning himself on the dock. She grabbed the tray and headed down, having to give authorization at the doors to be let inside.

He didn't twitch at all, remaining motionless even when her heavy combat boots thumped on the wooden boards he lay on. She came within five feet of him and stopped, staring down at him and wishing she didn't find his body so fascinating even as her eyes ran over the muscles of his abdomen bunched because of the way he was lying. He cushioned his head with his hands behind it, and as far as she could tell, he was fully healed and his hair had grown back.

"Gonna stand there all day, frail?" he asked suddenly, making her fight the urge to squeak and jump in startlement. "Figured Blondie'd be bringin' me lunch like usual."

"After your little header into the forcefield earlier I figured it'd be better if someone else brought it."

"Protectin' the pups, how civilized." Creed rolled onto his stomach and braced himself with his arms, looking up at her through a curtain of golden blond hair and seeming for all the world like a docile person. The illusion was ruined by the amusement in those feral amber eyes and the grin that showed his sharp incisors. "So the little squaw took her place."

Once again she ignored the slur. Acknowledging it only meant he'd keep pressing that button, looking for a reaction. "I could always let you starve, I know you need to eat regular or your healing factor gets whacked out."

"You're too nice to do that."

She bared her own teeth at him. "You haven't dealt much with me, I don't do the X-Men thing as often as the others. Don't underestimate me." She knelt and set the tray down, picking up her food before standing again. "Enjoy your lunch."

Creed only let her get a few steps away before he spoke again. "So where's the runt?" he asked.

Rae considered ignoring him before she turned and found him sitting up. His hair slid along the right side of his face, easily as long as hers where it fell to mid-back. "You know him, he marches to the beat of his own drummer. Possibly makes his own drums." She tugged her braid over her shoulder to play with the end of it, the small silver charms attached to it. "He'll be back soon enough."

"Lookin' forward to it. Haven't had a good tussle in a while."

She snorted. "You aren't going to be allowed to fight, Creed. Logan may not like it but he'll abide by the professor's wishes."

"He's whipped, you mean." Creed reached for the bottle of water on the tray, cracking it open and taking a long drink. "He's foolin' himself thinkin' he's a good man when deep down he's just like me. He just hasn't admitted it yet."

Rae frowned at him. "Logan's a better man than you, Sabretooth, in every way that counts. Just because he takes his humanity seriously doesn't make him weaker than you. In fact, I think it makes him stronger. It enables him to have a family and friends instead of being lonely." She met his eyes, didn't look away from his intense, hard stare. "You've killed or been responsible for the deaths of everyone who's ever cared about you. How can you live with that knowledge?"

A low growl made the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention but she didn't step back, didn't show any fear to him.

"You think somehow that's gonna make me break down an' beg you losers to save me? Like I'm gonna come crawlin' to ya on my knees?"

She wanted nothing more than to turn and walk out, to ignore the sneer and the derision, yet something held her back. "You make it sound like being a decent person is some kind of prison sentence, or possibly even a death sentence. Why are you so afraid of being a good man, Victor Creed?" His eyes were unreadable, fathomless. "Is it because you might fail at it?"

He surged to his feet and came at her, the claws tipping each finger sliding out to their full length as he reached for her. He moved so quickly that those claws opened shallow cuts on her arm before she reacted by grabbing him by the throat and letting lose a cloud of pheromones that calmed him, made him fall to his knees in front of her. The food she'd been holding fell from her hands.

"How did you - what the hell did you do t' me?" he asked, his voice hoarse, and she could see the anger in his eyes at being put down.

"I told you not to underestimate me. I don't need my guns to keep you in line." She eased back on the pheromones but let them linger in case he thought of attacking again.

Creed reached up and wrapped his big hand around her wrist where she still held his throat. His skin was very warm against hers but he held her loosely, not as if he was going to hurt her. His claws slid back in until they were flush with his fingertips. "I can be anything I want."

Rae quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"You said I was afraid I'd fail at tryin' to be good. I can be anything I want, ain't gotta be forced."

"So you don't want to be good?" she asked.

He shrugged powerful shoulders, his eyes dropping from hers. "Ain't ever been good," was his quiet reply. "Only thing I've ever been was bad, don't know if I can walk the other path."

She kept the shock out of her eyes, off of her face, and resisted the insane urge to reach out and stroke his hair, offer him comfort. It was entirely possible he was just playing on her sympathies, trying to trick her into complacency or win her over, make her think he was willing to change so he could take advantage of her. For all he claimed to be an animal he was incredibly intelligent and cunning.

He let her go, turned his head. "Don't know why I'm tellin' you, won't make a bit o' difference. Y'all see me the way you want to."

"We see you the way _you_ want us to, Creed. Just like you assume we're all bleeding hearts with visions of world peace and joy filling our silly little heads." She flexed her hand and fought the desire to touch him again. She didn't know why it was happening and hated that lack of understanding. "You can understand that we doubt your intentions when you fight Xavier at every turn, refuse to work with him to help you control the bloodlust. Even an assurance that you want our aid would go a long way to allaying fears."

Rae stooped to pick up her lunch, grateful that Tabby had kept everything packaged so the food wasn't ruined. She looked back up and Creed was still on his knees, staring down at his hands.

Finally, after a long silence, he lifted his head and met her gaze. "Hard to let go o' somethin' I've had my whole life, somethin' that's been a part of me for as long as I can remember." His eyes held some unreadable emotion and he reached absently to tuck hair behind his ear. "Feels like givin' up a piece o' myself."

"It's like a cancer, Creed, you need to cut it out completely or it'll kill you." She turned to go and almost made it to the doors before he spoke again.

"I'll try."


	4. Chapter 4

His body was buzzing, almost like an adrenaline rush but not, his preternatural sixth sense telling him something big was coming. In his youth he'd ignored that voice, that little tickle, more often than not to his own detriment, but now he listened. He nearly hummed with anticipation.

Victor wasn't sure why he'd agreed to cooperate. It had been almost a split decision, made before he realized what was happening, before the words had left his lips. Pride kept him from reneging; it sure as hell wasn't honor that kept him compliant, he wouldn't know what that particular trait was if it slapped him in the face and called him Shirley.

It meant he was forced to face up to his past and he found it didn't make for easy sleeping. More often than not now in his waking hours he was restless, pacing back and forth like the caged animal he was, seeking some respite from his memories. He'd mocked Logan more than once because his past was more complete than the smaller man's, lacking the missing pieces though still replete with brainwashing, but now he cursed that very aspect of himself. Never before had his killing games bothered him, never before had he ever once stopped to think about the consequences of his actions. With Team X he'd been let loose, given free rein to do as much damage as he liked as long as he stuck to the missions and did as he was told, because they knew trying to keep him on a short leash was next to impossible. He'd just snap it and likely kill his handlers in the process.

Xavier was insistent that he look at his victims in a clear light, even the ones he'd killed in self preservation were to be examined and processed because human life was valuable no matter what. It was difficult to move past that, to think of people as more than prey, and he constantly fought that urge, that need. The bloodlust refused to let him go without a fight, and he was a man who refused to be controlled; subconsciously that's why he'd sought help in the first place. Whether or not he'd wanted Xavier to give him the "glow" or kill him, he still wasn't sure, he just wanted the pain to end.

He was crouched in a tree, bare feet gripping the thick branch as he tried to steady his breathing, bring himself back to something approaching levelheaded. He'd dreamed of blood, of flesh, of ripping and tearing and he'd woken up craving it. Running until his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest hadn't helped any, so like any good cat he'd gone up the tree.

Someone was opening the doors to the Danger Room and he closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses until he caught the scent of sea water, so that he knew it was her before she came into sight.

"Where the hell is he?" she asked into the utter stillness, looking everywhere but up; humans never did that, having bred that habit out of the species millennia ago. There was nothing in the trees that could hurt them and so they ignored that possibility until it came back to bite them in the ass.

Victor cocked his head to the side and watched her, curious to find that she'd left her hair unbound. Every time he'd seen her thus far she'd had it braided or in a tight, neat bun. Now it fell around her shoulders like a curtain, glinting in the sun the color of fresh-turned earth with slight highlights of red and lighter shades of brown, the length ending just above her belt. His fingers itched to touch it, the urge simultaneous with that of the beast wondering what her blood tasted like, strong enough that he had to lean his head against the trunk of the tree. His talons grew and sank into the bark but barely satisfied the urge.

"Creed?" Rae called, her voice holding a note of worry.

He leapt from the tree when he thought he'd calmed, landing a few feet ahead of her, and he had to give her credit for not startling.

"You okay?" she asked, eyeing him slightly askance. Her scent told him she was curious and a little wary but she held herself as confidently as ever. Seemed every time he saw her she was dressed relatively the same, jeans and hoodie, barefoot though this time her toes were painted silver. When she reached up to scratch at her cheek he saw her fingernails were the same color.

"Mmmm." He didn't want to talk about it, was trying like hell not to even _think_ about it, but it was hard.

Rae's eyebrows rose and then dropped, apparently a sign she wasn't going to pry. "Um, I brought you some books. Tabby mentioned you weren't really interested in what she brought you." She slipped the satchel off her shoulder and held it out to him.

"Anything's better than _Jane Eyre_. And there was some book about vampires that sparkle." He lifted his lip in a sneer to show just what he thought of that, taking the bag from her and rooting through it. She'd brought him an eclectic mix: John Grisham, Harry Turtledove, George R. R. Martin, and even a few issues of National Geographic.

"Ooh, yeah, that one's ... I don't think there's a word invented yet to describe how bad it is." She moved a few steps away but remained close, within reach of his long arms, her hands going into the pockets of her hoodie.

He saw the movement from his peripheral vision and spoke as he continued to peruse the selection of reading material. "You always do that?" he asked.

"Hmmm?" she said. "Do what?"

"Hide yer hands." He looked up now and saw the hesitation on her face. "What, got six fingers or somethin'?"

She nibbled on her lower lip as she apparently debated whether or not to give him an honest answer. "Hunting accident," she finally replied, pulling her left hand out and showing him. The pinkie finger was gone just below the top knuckle and had healed cleanly with hardly any scarring, the skin there a little paler than the light brown of the rest of her. "We found a cub caught in a bear trap, my uncle and grandfather pried it open while I got the cub out, and when he struggled he took a swipe at my uncle. The other two got their hands away but I lost part of my finger in the trap."

Victor sucked in air through his teeth, something close to a sympathetic noise. "Lost my hand in one of those, once."

"Least you can just shove your hand back on." She put her hand back in the pocket. "Anyway, hopefully what I brought you works, I wasn't really sure if you had a preferred genre, I mean ..." Her words trailed off and she had a look on her face like she may have said something wrong.

He chuckled. "What, stone cold killer like me ain't well read? C'mon, girl, just say it, don't act like ya didn't think it." He tossed the bag on the ground and gave her his full attention. "Prefer honesty over lies."

"And I'd prefer not to wake up that 'stone cold killer'. You've killed over less than an insult."

His head dipped in acknowledgement of the truth of that. "Doesn't mean ya shouldn't try."

"Mmmm, I'll be the judge of that. I quite like my insides right where they are." She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "Anyway, I also wanted to tell you Xavier's gone for a few days, he got called away for something, so he won't be able to work with you until he gets back. In the meantime I guess your time is your own."

He couldn't say why that last sentence bothered him, or what exactly about it had him feeling a spike of loss; more often than not it was Rae who came with the professor for their daily sessions and he'd gotten used to her presence. Something about her just being there calmed him, something that had nothing to do with what her X gene gave her the ability to do. "Guess I'll have to figure out how to get by, then. Been on my own more often than not, an' it's not like Xavier's makin' much headway with me anyway."

It seemed impossible to acknowledge to himself that he might be able to get himself under control, learn to not let his darkness take him over without his consent. Talking with her had distracted him from the thoughts he'd had when she first entered the Danger Room but now, thinking about how he was going to have to keep himself in check for the unforeseen future, he felt that darkness creeping back in. It wrapped hands around his throat and tried to choke him, whispering sweet violence in his ear, telling him he was fast enough that he could take her down before she could drop him. He could have her jugular open and spurting.

She took a step back from him, then another, though she froze when he lifted his head and caught her gaze. He could only imagine what she saw on his face, in his eyes, that made her go still like a rabbit in the grass, seeing the predator and hoping if she didn't move, she'd live. He drew in air through his nose, took in the scent of her fear and saw her eyes go wide at the slight movement; he could hear her heartbeat racing, and it all spoke to the animal in him. His lips drew back in a snarl and he dug his claws into the palm of his hand, hoping the pain would ground him, give the beast something to focus on beside the smooth skin of Rae's neck.

With his vision narrowed down he saw her lift her hand and smelled something ... "soft" was the only word to describe it, wrapping around him, invading him. He felt it loosen his throat, ease the rush of adrenaline in him, the anticipation of the kill, until he found he could breathe more easily again.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't ... I don't like using my pheromones unless I have to."

Victor shook his head, scattering his hair in his face. "Better ya did it, girl, I wasn't thinkin' anything good." It was as close to an apology as he'd get. "Ya had to."

She opened her mouth to speak and ended up turning her head as the Danger Room doors hissed open, and the man standing there had fury written in his body language, on his face. "Shit."

"Runt," Victor greeted the shorter feral mutant, a sneer automatically forming on his lips. Here was someone he didn't have to hold himself in check around. "Was wonderin' when ya'd come back to roost."

Dark brown eyes showed murder and the desire for a fight, the rage even more evident when his claws slid out with the sound of bone scraping against bone. "Get outta here, Rae, I need to have words with this one." Logan's voice was a deeper growl than usual since the adamantium had been stripped from his skeleton, leaving him in a regressed feral state with more of a penchant for flying into a rage than before.

"Oh, like you can take me, ya little punk."

"No." Rae stepped between them with her hands out and made Victor chuckle at her show of concern, a small and seemingly fragile woman between two heavily-muscled ferals who'd fight given less than half a chance. That she thought she could stop them would seem insane to anyone who hadn't seen what she could do. "Logan, Charles isn't here to tell you this, but this isn't gonna happen. Creed's here under the professor's protection and you'll have to go through me to get at him."

Logan snarled, baring sharp incisors like that of a wolf. "I don't wanna hurt ya," he told her, "but I will if ya don't step aside." He shifted on the balls of his feet, a stance that screamed his intentions.

Victor risked touching Rae, felt her tense under his hand on her shoulder as she faced his rival. "I appreciate the gesture, babe, but ya may as well just let this run the course. This ain't gonna end until one o' us is dead." He cared nothing for himself, knew it was always going to come down to him and the Wolverine facing off, it was just the way things were. And he didn't want her to end up in the crossfire, hurt because neither one of them was going to back down. That he cared for her at all was a new and unsettling realization.

The shorter feral had growled when Victor touched her, though both were surprised when she didn't shake his hand off.

"Logan, please. He's here because he's trying to cure his bloodlusts, you of all people should understand and appreciate that. Even more so now that your adamantium is gone."

Another growl from him, this one angry that she was a little bit right. "Don't matter, kid, this one's a killer."

"So're you, point of fact." Now she did shrug Victor off, stepping closer to Logan and placing a hand on his chest. "Not the same way, I know, but this goes no further. You know I can stop you and I won't hesitate, just like you. You're the one that taught me to be ruthless after all."

He glared at Victor for the space of several breaths before he stepped back and retracted his claws, clearly unhappy with the decision. "Don't know why yer protectin' him, Rae. Ya know what he's capable of."

Victor heard her sigh, watched her shoulders rise and fall with the exhalation. "Yes, thank you, I'm not a complete simpleton." She turned to the blonde man. "I'll be back later with dinner, I've got some studying to do."

He nodded, amicable despite the fact he didn't take his eyes off Logan. "Ya know where to find me."

Rae gestured for Logan to leave with her and he fell into step beside her. His body language still spoke of barely suppressed battle lust, the need to assert his dominance over an unwelcome predator in his territory, but apparently he'd decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He stepped out through the door and just before Rae was out of sight, Victor called out after her.

"Thanks for the books, Rae."

She turned and gave him a look that was a cross between pleasure and exasperation. "No problem, I'll see you later."

* * *

"Tell me what the fuck is goin' on, Rae, 'fore I decide to go back in there."

Rae sighed again as she herded Logan towards the elevator. "Long story short, Creed went nuts after his son killed that blonde telepath he was running with, the one that controlled his bloodlusts for him." She punched in the number for the ground floor and leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "Some of the team chased him to Japan, then back here because he came after Xavier, whether to kill him or seek his help is up for debate. Charles is determined to cure him of the urge to kill, to teach him the value of human life and Creed is actually beginning to accept that."

Logan muttered something, pacing back and forth in the small confines of the elevator, two paces either way. "So what then, Chuck lets him go? All forgiven, he's a good boy now?"

"No, actually, he gets turned over to the authorities to do penance for what he's done. Charles isn't going to release him like nothing ever happened." She frowned at him, clicking her tongue to indicate her further displeasure. "You know the professor better than that."

He snorted, a dismissive rather than an amused expelling of breath. "This is fuckin' insane, is what it is. He needs to be put down like the rabid dog he is an' not be allowed to take up space, breathe air like he ain't evil. There's kids in this place and ya know he's just dreamin' about paintin' the walls with their blood."

Rae exploded out of the elevator as the doors opened, her raised voice causing people to stop what they were doing, students to eschew their lessons and crowd around classroom doors in an effort to see the argument better. "For pity's sake, Logan, don't act like Charles hasn't afforded you every opportunity to turn yourself around, to keep your feral side under wraps when it tries to control you. You had people take you into their home to nurse you back to humanity, to give your life meaning and purpose, something Creed never got."

Logan's eyes went a little wide at her diatribe, the mere fact she wasn't going to back down and over Creed of all people. He knew she had a wild temper that could spark easily but he'd rarely been on the receiving end of it. Before he could take a breath to respond she kept going.

"I swore to Charles that I'd make sure nothing happened to Creed while he was gone, and I will not let you make a liar out of me, Logan, do you hear me? I don't even need to ask to know that I've got the backing of the rest of the team, as much as they don't like having him here, but this isn't going to happen. If that means you need to leave, then so be it, and you can take it up with Charles when he gets back." She rarely got so angry and a few months ago if someone had told her she'd reach this state over defending Sabretooth she'd have laughed in their face for being insane. But she'd made a promise and she realized she'd invested a part of herself in wanting the man to get better, to succeed at what he was trying to accomplish.

"Yer serious, aren't ya?" Logan asked, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "You'd tell me to leave my home before you'd let me go after him." His tone was even, neutral, like they were discussing the weather.

Rae could still hear the dangerous undercurrent, knew the peril that lurked beneath his apparent ease. "I'd tell you to do as Charles asked, and if you couldn't do that, then you should leave. I know this is your home, Logan, and none of us feel completely safe having him living belowgrounds, but it's not our decision. Charles gave us a place to live and we have to abide by his wishes."

A pin could have dropped and would have been deafening in the silence that followed, as Logan considered the situation and the watching students waited to see if there was going to be a brawl between teachers in the hallway. Even Emma and Betsy were hovering nearby in readiness to step in.

The tension finally flowed out of Logan, his stance relaxing as his hands fell to his sides, and a grim smile turned his lips up slightly. "Kid, if you can face me down over it, I can live with it. Ya got a big, brass pair."

She wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream, and the sound that came out of her was a mix of both. "I learned from the best, big brother." She flexed her hands, knuckles popping from how tight she'd been holding them in fists. "Jesus, Logan, I thought we were gonna throw down."

He chuckled and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in the direction of the kitchen while studiously ignoring the kids who were groaning as they were herded back into their classrooms. "Let's get some beer and you can tell me all the other crazy shit I missed while I was gone."

* * *

If Victor seems a bit out of character here in his feelings for Rae, I assure you that he is capable of actually feeling something for a woman besides lust. He shows this in the mini "Mary Shelley Overdrive" where he ends up saving a woman from some assassins and he finds that he feels protective of her and maybe even something close to love.


	5. Chapter 5

Logan seemed satisfied with Rae's determination and didn't say anything about it afterwards; when Charles returned there was indeed a confrontation over it that ended in Logan storming off into the woods surrounding the school, so that in some weird twist of fate there were almost two beasts inhabiting that forest, one inside and one outside. Logan had been told that if he couldn't control his temper it was better for him to not be around the students with the potential for a blow-up, when really it was more about his inability to deal with Creed living belowgrounds.

Rae tried to ignore her _sensei_ 's pigheaded stubbornness and shift her focus back onto her studies. At NYU she'd earned a dual BA in literature (with a focus on medieval and European works) and linguistics, and through the same school she was now working on a Masters in Library Science. Growing up she'd been near-obsessed with books and had been overjoyed to be turned loose in Xavier's collections when she'd come to the Institute, full of new and wonderful titles. Through him she'd earned privileges with the nearby universities and could spend hours poring over ancient tomes and translations, her polyglot upbringing affording her a knack and love for languages. In college she'd been able to study abroad in Italy and France and she found herself longing to go back there, to walk those hallowed, hushed rooms full of the musty smell of old books.

She was, frustratingly, still without a thesis topic and felt like pounding her head against the wall, despite the fact she was only in her second semester. Rooming with Kitty Pryde must have rubbed off on her and gave her an overachiever's complex, because it certainly wasn't the influence of Jubilation Lee pushing her through academia. The Chinese woman was indeed brilliant but most of the time couldn't be bothered to apply herself when it came to school and had done merely average work.

A quick call to her best friend in Chicago, where Kitty was working on her own Masters in Communications, gave her the suggestion of focusing on the relationship between libraries and Native American communities, something Rae was intimately familiar with and somewhat driven by. It was both broad enough and specialized enough that she could get a lot of mileage about the concept.

For now, though, she had mid-terms to study for, and papers to grade as Emma's TA. As much as she disliked the White Queen's snooty attitude she had to admit she ran a tight ship and managed to get interesting essays out of her kids.

Rae continued to escort Xavier on his sessions with Creed but couldn't help feeling frustration there, too, when the feral began to backslide. He complained of horrid migraines that Xavier explained were his bloodlust trying to assert itself as it had before, yet he seemed powerless to fight past them, caught in a grip so strong even he couldn't break out of it. It was the pain of that which had sent him on his rampage in the first place, seeking relief any way he could find it, whether that meant sating the compulsion or finding someone who could take him down.

It was hard not to feel a little compassion for him, some sense that maybe he really _wasn't_ strong enough to break free. He'd said he was willing, had shown progress up until this point, but now when he spoke it was only of death and killing, of what he wanted to do and what he saw when he closed his eyes. It was never anything different.

Xavier was obviously growing despondent that his plans of rehabilitation were proving pointless. Daily violent outbursts had landed Creed back in the cell he'd originally been in in order to keep him more closely contained, and no one wanted to go down there anymore, not even Tabitha. Rae was the only one who would, partly because she felt she owed it to him after he'd told her he'd try, and partly because he seemed to calm at least a little at her presence.

She sat out on the back veranda with two of her schoolbooks, moving back and forth between them when her interest in one began to wane, and she would have continued like that if she hadn't been interrupted by Scott coming out looking harried.

"What's up?" she asked, getting to her feet in automatic response.

"Can you come downstairs?" he asked. "Creed's not responding to anyone else, not even Xavier, and he seems to have gone insane."

Rae immediately picked up her books and followed, wondering exactly what she'd find in the subbasement, expecting blood at the very least.

She heard him before she saw him, that same thick sound of something hitting the forcefield and bouncing off, the forcefield itself crackling and whining. Almost as soon as she heard the first hit she heard the second.

"What the hell?" she asked, picking up her pace. She found Creed struggling to his feet, looking like a burn victim with most of the skin gone on his face to show muscle and sinew and, in a few places, stark bone peeking out from his injuries. Most of his hair was gone and what little was left of his clothing was gone in the front, smoking from contact with the forcefield.

She watched as he charged it again, a look of grim determination on his disfigured face, but he made no sound beyond a grunt as he hit.

"That's enough of this," she said. "Open the field, Scott, I'll handle it." She set her books down on the floor and prepared herself.

Her leader didn't question her, instead trusting in her judgment and training that she could do what she said. His palmprint and voice ID brought the field down just as Creed was preparing for another run.

Rae lifted her hands and released her pheromones, a calming wave of them to wrap him up and bring his madness to a halt. He lifted his head and breathed deep through lips and nostrils almost entirely gone, his breath coming out with a ragged growl as he turned insane eyes on her.

She pushed harder and watched the light dawn slowly, the bloodlust recede bit by bit until some part of the man was looking back at her. She watched him swallow and flinch at the damage to his body.

"Are you done?" she asked, hands still held out in case she needed to hit him again.

He gave another grunt, then a nod, but didn't speak. She wasn't sure if he'd be able to form a coherent sentence anyway.

"How long was he at this?" she asked, turning her head to look at Scott without letting Creed out of sight.

"I honestly don't know, I came down to take care of some mission files and he already looked like... Well, like that. Betsy gave it a go after Charles, trying to get into his head, but he was keeping them both out, and Emma wouldn't even think about it. The only thing I could think of was your pheromones and hoping that would be enough."

She shook her head and sighed, looking back at the feral who was now crouched down, one mangled hand pressed palm-down on the floor to hold himself up. "I guess we should just be glad it wasn't Logan who found him or he'd be in chunks. As it is this'll just be incentive to get rid of him."

Scott put the field back up and stepped away from the keypad. "Can you blame him?" he asked, gesturing at Creed who, for now, seemed content to just sit there. "What little progress that was made just got set back by weeks if not months. I just can't see how Charles expects to cure him when he can barely get through to him. He said it was like coming up against a brick wall of blood and screaming, his face was absolutely white after he tried to get in."

Together they went back up to the main level, going to Xavier's office and finding Ororo and Betsy there along with Remy and Rogue.

"I see we are not the only ones concerned," Ororo said, nodding to them in greeting. "There is nothing more frightening than knowing that he is down there trying to escape."

"Are we so sure he's trying to escape?" Rae asked. Six pairs of eyes turned to her, only one set unreadable but she'd known Scott long enough to gauge his emotions based on other factors. His brow was furrowed and his head was tilted just so.

"What do you mean?" Charles asked.

Rae shrugged and crossed the room, claiming a spot on the loveseat by the open window. She could smell roses and hyacinths from the nearby gardens. "Even after he started regressing and was still in the Danger Room, he never tried to escape there, not even when we moved him back and forth so the teams could train. He wasn't exactly pleasant as to his choice of conversational topics but there were no active escape attempts."

"What else could it possibly be?" Betsy asked, her accent clipping her words at the end. She always sounded impatient. "He's made it quite clear he'd rather not be here."

"That was before he accepted help." Rae fiddled with a pen in her pocket and prepared to make an unpopular observation. "I think he's suicidal."

"What?" Rogue burst out. "If that's true why don't he just slit his own throat?"

"He's got a healing factor, Rogue, he can't exactly go about it by conventional means." Rae didn't mean it to sound so bitingly sarcastic.

Remy clucked his tongue. "It do make a strange sorta sense, _chere_. He be smart enough t' know what it would take t' get his body t' the point it can' take no more." He ignored the glare from the object of his affections.

Xavier picked up the thread. "He could very well be overloading his healing factor to the point a more 'conventional' method, as Rae put it, would work. We know from experience that there are definite limits which would result in death if they were to be crossed." He steepled his fingers under his chin. "This is indeed troubling and I confess I find myself at a crossroads: do I continue to work with him, or do I give up and let him be incarcerated without being cured of the bloodlust?"

"I vote lock his ass up an' throw away the key," Rogue said, holding up a gloved hand. "He don't deserve one lick o' our help if he's just gonna let it get this bad without tryin'. He obviously don't want it that bad."

"The same could be said for the man currently living in the woods behind the school," Rae interjected, "and I've said as much before. We give up on Creed and we're nothing but hypocrites."

"The difference is that Creed don't care!" Rogue shifted so that she stood over her teammate, hands balling into fists. "He kills 'cause he likes it, 'cause it feels good. Logan's got honor and a sense o' right an' wrong."

"Because somewhere along the way he was given a chance to learn those skills," Charles said. "I have seen into Creed's head, Rogue, there was no time in his childhood in which he was taught consequences for his actions that were not merely more violence, more blood, and we must remember that."

Rogue snorted derisively. "That's like sayin' we shoulda let Hitler off easy 'cause his mama didn't love 'im enough."

The professor raised an eyebrow, the only sign he wasn't feeling the calm he outwardly presented. "And again I reiterate that I have never planned on letting Victor go once he was cured. Whether or not he feels remorse he will pay for his crimes. I am merely telling you why there is a difference between these two feral mutants and why comparing them is a moot point."

"Y'all are insane, I hope ya realize that." Rogue turned and went out the door.

"Let her go," Xavier said when Remy made to go after her. "She will not see reason any more than Logan will."

"Can you blame her?" Ororo asked. "We have a killer locked up beneath our school, under a haven for children, and I find myself increasingly concerned for their safety. Something must be done, Charles, because even if his goal may not be to escape, he could very well harm one of them in an attempt to take his own life."

"That I'll agree with," Rae said. "He's not responding to telepathy, the only thing that even calms him down is my pheromones and today I had to push more on him than I have in the past just to get him to back off. It might get to the point that won't work anymore and then we're royally screwed."

Xavier nodded, placing his fingers against his lips for a moment. "Give me a few hours to think on it. I may ask for more input but I will certainly let you all know by the end of the day what I believe needs to be done."

The team scattered then, going in several separate directions. Rae watched Remy move with purpose to find Rogue and thought about doing the same, going to her friend, but that would just spark another pointless argument. They couldn't - wouldn't - see eye to eye on this any time soon.

Working out didn't seem appealing, and she wasn't hungry, so she decided to go veg out in front of the TV for a while. The rec room was already occupied by members of X-Force but luckily someone with some taste had gotten control of the remote so instead of being stuck watching something like _Survivor_ , _M*A*S*H_ was playing. It was like some universal language that crossed age boundaries.

Halfway through a fourth episode, the one where Hawkeye suffered a concussion following a jeep crash and he spent an entire afternoon monologuing to a Korean family, she realized she'd left her books down in the sub-basement outside Creed's cell. It wasn't a pressing need to get them and this was one of her favorite episodes so she waited until the show was over to go back down.

Almost immediately she heard the telltale sounds of a brawl, the impact of bodies and the unmistakable sound of flesh being torn, underscored by growling as if two beasts were hell-bent on taking each other down. The worst possible thing that could have happened had begun in the time between her remembering her books and deciding she could wait, and she muttered curses.

Creed flew down the corridor, sliding once he hit the floor almost all the way to where Rae stood outside the elevator, but just as soon as he came to a stop he was back up, charging an enraged Logan who met him with six razor-sharp bone claws. They hacked and slashed at each other with mindless savagery, taunting breathlessly to trip the other up, circling and moving with a deadly grace that was beautiful in its own way. Blood splatters covered the wall the length of the corridor, turned into footprints on the floor, and both men were dripping with it but without wounds to attest. There was no way to know how long they'd been at it, but she could tell that Creed was wearing down; Logan's healing factor had proven to be much stronger when he'd lost his adamantium and he showed no signs of fatigue.

"Stop!" Rae shouted, knowing full well it wouldn't do much good. Her pheromones wouldn't do anything the farther away they got from her and she wasn't sure it was safe to get close enough in any event, not without some other weapon. The risk was too great with two ferals who likely wouldn't care if she stood in their way; they'd cut her down to keep going, though at least Logan would grieve afterwards.

"Goddammit," she said, going to the comm system on the wall outside the elevator. "Codename: Aura, emergency authorization gamma charlie echo, send to all X-Men. Get your asses down here, stat!" She sent the call and turned back to watch, and she saw that it was likely too late.

They were both moving more slowly, which gave Creed time to snarl out threats. "When I'm done with you," he said, grinning, "I'm gonna go after all them frails ya seem to collect like puppies. Jubilee first, then Kitty, might have to make a special trip up to Canada just fer that Hudson bitch." He snapped his teeth at Logan. "I'll save the squaw for last, just 'cause I think she's pretty an' I can't pass up a piece o' tail like that. But she'll be dead all the same."

Rae felt her blood run cold at that, at the casual offhandedness of the comment about raping and killing her. Had she been so wrong about him after all? Or was this what he was losing the fight against, a biological imperative to destroy everything he laid eyes on?

Logan let loose a terrible shout that was almost like a howl. "That's it, bub, ya just stepped over the line. Do what ya want with me but ya harm one hair on any o' their heads and I've got all the reason I need to put ya down."

"Ooh, did I strike a nerve?" Creed chuckled. "Seems yer just as much an animal as I am, Runt."

"I'm fed up with doin' what Chuck wants, with holdin' back the wild part o' me-"

"Then quit yappin' an' do it!" Creed yelled.

Rae felt paralyzed on the spot, watching Logan raise his hand and shove his fist beneath Creed's jaw, retracting the middle claw and leaving just the outside claws to frame the bigger man's face. She could have gotten closer now but she was rooted, unable to do anything except watch.

"Ya punkin' out on me, shortie?" Creed demanded. "Ya pull this half-assed shit out in the jungle an' that's all she wrote. I ain't lyin' - you let me walk an' I swear, I'll track down every livin' thing you ever cared about one way or the other - Kitty Pryde ... Jubilee ... Rae ... Ororo ... An' I'll make 'em suffer a good long time before I kill 'em. Unless ya got the guts to give me that last big glow." His voice was ragged now, not just with rage but some deeper, darker thing.

"DO IT!" he shouted. "JUST FUCKIN' DO IT ALR-"

"Logan, no!" Rae cried out as Logan released that third, middle claw, watched it pierce up through the top of Creed's head.

Creed howled in pain, eyes gone huge and unseeing, and as Logan let him go and sheathed his claws he slid down the wall he'd been pressed up against.

Rae ran forward, finally released from the spell that had held her in place. "Did you kill him?" she asked, looking back and forth between the two. She could see the blood on Logan's hands from the fight, bright red where it was fresh and a dark brown where it had begun to dry. She pushed her teammate back.

"I doubt it," was the growling, nearly-unintelligible answer, though it was clear he didn't care. Anything else he might have said was drowned out as voices filled the hallway, the rest of the team finally coming down to avert a crisis that had already occurred.

Hank appeared beside her, dropping to a crouch so he could check Creed's neck for a pulse. "He's still alive," he said, "but barely. Between his self-inflicted injuries earlier and this fight with our Canadian teammate his healing factor was taxed beyond normal." He looked up and growled a curse. "I can handle his upper body if you can take one leg. Scott, some help here, please? Of course Rogue couldn't possibly be around when I need her strength."

Between the three of them they struggled to lift the heavy mutant, though luckily the medlab was nearby and they got him hoisted him up onto one of the diagnostic beds. Rae hopped up onto another bed to catch her breath and watch the proceedings, looking away only when the professor arrived.

"What happened?" he asked.

"They were already at it when I got down here," Rae reported automatically. "Seemed Creed was still recovering from earlier, his hair and skin had grown back but gods only know what kind of internal damage he'd done." She grimaced. "I'm sorry I didn't stop them, Charles -"

"Could you get close enough to them?" he interrupted.

"No, but -"

This time the interruption came in the form of his hand on her arm. "You should not apologize that you didn't risk your life; those two can heal, you can't. Continue."

Rae nodded and did as asked, now looking over at the feral mutant whose body was almost completely obscured by the panel that had slid out from under the bed, a medical scanner to let Hank see inside.

"They fought hard and I think Creed knew they were coming up on the end. He started saying some pretty horrible things, how he was going to hunt down and kill everyone Logan loved - all of us females - and make sure we suffered while he did it. I couldn't tell if he was talking shit or if it was the bloodlust, but either way, Logan decided he'd had enough of it. He put a claw through Creed's head and that ended it."

Xavier nodded as he took the information in, his own attention engaged partway between her and the patient. "There will likely be brain damage, then, if he does not perish from the wounds he sustained."

"Indeed," Hank put in, overhearing this last bit. He was moving around the bed, administering various treatments as he spoke, ever efficient. "Ossial fragmentation, the sinuses have collapsed, the force with which that claw went through was enough to create arterial rupturing in both hemispheres, and that is merely the physical damage. As you can see here," he said, tapping a screen, "he's experienced the equivalent of a lobotomy through the medial temporal lobe, as well as damage to the hippocampus."

Xavier sighed. "Without his healing factor I think it's safe to say he would not have survived. Is he stabilized, Henry?"

Hank nodded. "He is, Charles. I will keep you informed of any changes."

"Is it alright if I stay?" Rae asked. She couldn't say what it was that made her want to stick around.

"I may find need of your powers, Rae, I would be happy to have you remain."

Logan and Victor's dialogue during their fight at the end is adapted from Wolverine vol. 2 #90.


	6. Chapter 6

He woke slowly and with great effort, his eyes gritty and his body generally feeling ... wrong. As he surfaced he tried to move and found that he couldn't, his limbs secured to whatever surface he was lying on, and his first reaction was to fight against his restraints. He'd come to in similar situations in the past and it was always his first instinct to attempt escape; often enough, being tied down meant something bad was going to happen to him, or something bad already had happened, but either way he knew it was nothing good, and he needed to get away before anything worse happened.

A nearby beeping sound sped up in cadence the harder he fought and then, just as quickly, the panic subsided as a distantly familiar scent filled his nose. He blinked and focused on the figure standing at his side: a woman with raven-dark hair in two braids was holding a hand up, palm facing him. Her warm, dark brown eyes met his and he seemed to recall looking into them before, but as quick as the thought came, it vanished.

"It's alright," she reassured him, her voice low and soothing. "You're in no danger here."

"Where am I?" he asked, finding he could turn his head freely, at least. The surroundings were also vaguely familiar but he wasn't quite sure why. "Who are you?"

A frown appeared on her brow. "You don't know?"

"Would I be askin' if I did?"

"You're safe, and I'm a ... friend." She glanced at something behind him. "I'll be right back, you just ... be easy."

There wasn't much he could do but comply, though he did continue to try to test his restraints in a more quiet and controlled fashion. Another female voice, along with the Native American woman's, spoke from out of eyesight. They were making an effort to be quiet but his enhanced hearing picked it up as if they were right beside him.

"Bets, what are you getting?" she asked. "I can't tell if he's putting me on or not; I have trouble with ferals."

There was a pause before the second woman spoke, her words clipped and very British. "So far as I can tell he is being truthful, there is no deception in him. Hank and Charles told us to expect this even in a best-case scenario, that he'd have any kind of cognitive function at all. Be that as it may, though, I'd feel immensely better were Charles and Emma to have a peek before we even think about removing his restraints."

"Call them down here then, would you?"

He relaxed again when she reappeared. "What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.

"I -" he began, then he blinked. "Nothin'," he finally finished, feeling panic rise up again at the knowledge that, well, he had no knowledge.

"Not even your name?"

"Victor Creed." That much he knew, at least. "Who are you?"

She gave him a small smile. "Raina. Rae, actually, is the name you know me by."

"Where am I?"

The smile faded as her lower lip folded under to be worried between her teeth before she answered. "It might take a while to explain, Victor. There are a couple people who need to talk to you first and then, I promise, I'll tell you what I can."

Her scent was one he knew instinctively was honest.

Within a few minutes two more people entered the room, a blonde woman who looked like a supermodel and a bald man in a wheelchair, and again both of them were familiar but the memory was just out of reach. He actually flinched when the man's eyes met his.

"This is Emma and Charles," Rae told him, placing a calming hand on his arm. "They're telepaths and they need to take a quick look in your mind to make sure you're okay. You had a head injury and they just need to see if there's any lasting damage."

Again, there was little he could do but comply, though he watched with wariness as the other two approached. Something told him not to trust them but, for some reason, he trusted Rae and if she trusted the telepaths, he'd take her at her word.

"Just close your eyes and relax," Charles said, reaching out to place a hand on Victor's forehead.

He felt the lightest brush against what he assumed was his mind, like a butterfly touching down on a flower, and his eyes drifted shut at the strange intrusion. He could sense Charles in his head the way he could smell the man's cologne, the scent mixing with Emma's perfume into something nauseating that he had to fight to ignore.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before he felt that foreign presence pull away and leave him with his own thoughts.

"So?" Rae asked.

Charles made a gesture that was sort of a shrug. "It appears that his former personality has either been repressed or destroyed as a result of the physical trauma. I believe that, so long as he agrees to wear some sort of monitoring device, we can allow him a certain amount of freedom."

"Would ya quit talkin' about me like I'm simple?" Victor growled, glaring at him. "Why do I need to be monitored?"

The other man glanced at Rae before answering. "I will let Raina explain that." Abruptly he left, taking Emma with him.

"Are you okay with this?" Rae asked, holding up what looked like a slim metal bracelet. "It won't hurt you unless you try to leave the grounds or tamper with it."

"Do I have a choice?"

Her eyes became somewhat blank. "Of course you do. Unfortunately it's either this or we place you in our holding cell."

"Ain't much of a choice." He sighed. "Fine. If it means not bein' caged I guess I can live with it."

She offered him a small smile and released his left arm, placing the bracelet around his wrist when he lifted it, and then she undid the rest of his restraints.

"Are you hungry at all?"

Victor shook out his limbs and flexed his hands, glancing down at his new accessory for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head to stretch out his neck. "Yeah, I guess so. Dunno when the last time I ate was." As he followed her out of what appeared to be some kind of medical facility he took in his surroundings, noting the stark, metallic walls and floor, thought again that he should recognize this and felt unease creeping back in. "What is this place?"

"A school, primarily," Rae replied, leading the way to an elevator. She keyed in a code and stepped back to lean against the wall inside. "A haven for mutants, like us, to learn how to live with our abilities. The lower level is our medbay and some training rooms." Again her scent came back to him as honest but something niggled at the back of his brain, telling him she'd left out some information.

The elevator came to a halt, the doors opening into a richly appointed foyer where the scents were less sterile and more... alive. "Upstairs is everything else, classrooms, dormitories, rec rooms ... pretty much everything we need." She moved ahead of him on bare feet, her toes painted emerald green. "We can get some food and go outside, I'm sure you'd like it more than being cooped up in here."

He didn't respond, instead continuing to observe and catalogue, taking in scents both familiar and strange, but he really would feel better being outside. He had no way of knowing how long he'd been confined save for some vague feeling that it had been longer than he prefered and he knew that being outdoors was where he belonged.

Pacing the spacious kitchen while Rae gathered something to eat he thought more of his predicament, looking down at the bracelet on his wrist with a passing thought to how much it might hurt just to have complete freedom. But he didn't know why he was here, or why he couldn't remember a flaming thing, and cooperating meant that he might get some answers.

"C'mon, it's this way," she said, leading the way once again. A doorway at the far end of the kitchen took them out onto a wide patio done in brick, wrought iron chairs surrounding a table of the same with a glass top, an open umbrella situated above to create shade.

Victor made a beeline for the steps leading down to grass, the urge to feel it beneath his bare feet stronger than he could resist.

Rae gave a small, soft laugh behind him that made him turn to her a moment.

"What?" he asked, brow furrowed.

She shrugged. "You remind me of a very happy cat basking in the sun," she replied, coming down the steps to sit beside him. She placed the food between them on a tray, seemingly at ease even though he could read a slight tension in her, a kind of wary alertness.

Victor found that he was ravenous and quickly devoured three roast beef sandwiches before Rae offered to make a few more. She'd eaten one herself with a bit more decorum.

While she was gone he closed his eyes, taking in scents and sounds, trying to separate what he knew from what he didn't. It wasn't easy and the harder he pushed the more his head began to hurt, the ache spreading into his neck and shoulders.

"You okay?" Rae asked when she returned, handing him the tray. She drank from a bottle of Pepsi, watching him.

"As well as I can be, I guess." He shrugged. "Tryin' to remember and comin' up with nothin'. Kinda pisses me off."

He saw more than heard her sigh, the exhale lowering her shoulders. "Ya can't tell me what happened, can ya?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, at least. As I told you, you suffered a brain injury, and we're still not completely sure how it's going to affect you or even if you're out of the woods yet." She looked down, away from him. "I am sorry for that, Victor."

He could smell the truth of her words, let that ease some of the frustration, but tension remained in his muscles. He looked down at his hands, large with long fingers tipped by wicked talons; he flexed them, felt the distant urge to use them, do something, anything to ease the unbearable feeling of wrongness clawing at the back of his throat.

Rae made a small, displeased sort of sound, her eyes locked on something in the trees that backed up to the mansion.

He turned his own attention in that direction, felt his hackles rise when he caught a maddeningly-familiar scent. A low growl trickled out, his claws lengthening.

She touched his arm tentatively. "I'll be right back," she said, rising on bare feet. "Please, stay here."

He wanted to ignore her but he still felt so off, so out of sorts, that he wasn't sure what good would come of it. He watched her go, kept track of her even after she disappeared into the trees by the faint sounds of her footfalls, so quiet that even he could barely hear them. A growl made his ears prick up and he could just make out a conversation.

"Why'd ya bring him out here?" asked a male voice, the one that had growled.

"Are we having this conversation again? Because it's not going to end any differently," Rae replied, frustration and anger clear in her tone. "You decided it would be better for you to live out here, in the woods and out in the boathouse. He's wearing a monitoring bracelet even he couldn't remove without nearly killing himself."

"Fine, but why's he out here?"

Rae sighed. "Because this isn't fucking Gitmo, Logan, and you don't own the outdoors. Go back to the boathouse if you can't stand him being out here for a few minutes."

"If I didn't like ya so much-"

"Done talking. We'll be going back inside shortly." Under the sound of her footsteps Victor could hear the man laugh, harsh and bitter, but he didn't say anything else and he didn't emerge from the trees with Rae.

She offered Victor a smile as she came back. "Sorry about that. I know you heard it, so I'll tell you this: please don't go into the woods without someone, preferably me. Logan would just as soon kill you as look at you and I don't want to have to kick his ass for it."

"Logan is... he hates me." It felt right to say that, he knew it for truth. "Pretty sure I hate him, too."

"You've known each other a very long time," Rae said. "I don't know how much more I can tell you without consequences. Maybe..." She sighed, shoulders slumping. "Just so you know, I hate this, I really do. I don't agree that you shouldn't know the truth, but I'm mature enough I can admit that I don't know the wisest course of action."

Her head jerked up, eyes wide when he reached out to touch her arm, her gaze moving from his hand back up to his face. He wasn't sure if that was because he'd never touched her in the past, or because maybe he'd touched her in a different way. "It's alright," he told her. "Just tell me what ya can, when ya can. I'll try to live with it."

She opened her mouth, closed it, then chewed on her bottom lip. "Okay, I guess that works for now," she finally agreed. "In keeping with the theme of the day, I'm supposed to give you some ground rules."

"Shoot."

Her hands worked at peeling the wrapper off her soda bottle while she spoke. "Okay. You'll be staying in one of the uninhabited wings of the school, for your safety and that of others. I'll be living in that wing, too, if you need anything." The wrapper came off in pieces, reduced further by her fingers, and he could read the nervousness in that.

"Others aren't happy with you being here, so it'd be best if you kept to yourself as much as possible. Don't respond if you're baited, just walk away, find me or Charles. We'll do our best to defuse the situation."

It sounded like a really, really shitty way to live, but what other choice did he have? He didn't know anything, really, beyond his own name and a few other bits and pieces. Where else would he go? What else could he do?

"I'll do my best, I guess," he offered when she finished.

"That's all I can ask of you." She gave him a small smile as she gathered up the bits of wrapper, shoving them inside the empty bottle. In doing so, he saw the injury to her finger and memory flared to life again.

"Hunting accident, right?" he asked.

"Yeah." She didn't hesitate in showing him the shortened finger, though he seemed to remember she'd been a bit slower in showing him in the past. Goddamned fucked up memory. "Let me know when you'd like to go back inside."

He wanted to say "Never" but he knew that wouldn't happen, so he soaked up as much sun as he could before following her in, carrying the tray to put in the kitchen.

Rae took him down a flight of stairs, the temperature dropping a few degrees as he realized they were partially underground. "I'm here," she said, pointing to one door, "and you're here." His door was to the left of hers.

The room she showed him to wasn't exactly spacious but neither was it stingy, with a queen sized bed taking up a good portion of one wall. A small dresser and matching desk took up another wall with a TV on the dresser, and directly across from the door was a pair of French doors opening onto a small terrace, bearing out his observation that they were partially underground.

"There's a bathroom," she said, pointing to a third door, "just a shower, no tub. There's toiletries, I got you unscented stuff so you don't go crazy."

There was surprise, he found, that anyone would even care that much. Not sure how he felt about that, though, he didn't say anything but, "Thanks."

"Oh, almost forgot." She dug into her pocket, produced a cellphone. "I'm on 1 on the speed dial. If you need me and I'm not nearby, call or text. I'm around most of the time except for a few hours during the week when I'm in class in town."

Victor frowned at her. "Class? What're you in school for?"

She seemed a little surprised, now, that he'd asked. "Masters in Library Science. I've already got my bachelors in literature and linguistics. I'm in the middle of thesis work and seminars, with more or less an internship as librarian of this school." A small, almost shy quirked her lips. "Not that it's a huge job or anything, but it's experience."

He nodded, unsure how to respond.

Rae glanced at the watch on her right wrist. "Dinner's at six, I'll bring you something. I can get you some books, too, if what's on TV doesn't suit. A billion channels and half the time it's all shit, it's either reruns of Mythbusters or yet another cake decorating marathon, or some moron claiming that humans didn't build the pyramids, 'aliens did it'." She blinked, then said, "And now I'm babbling so I'm going to shut up."

He wasn't going to complain if she wanted to keep talking, honestly. "Can I check out the library after dinner?" he asked.

She nodded. "Sure, that's safe. Not like anyone but me ever goes in there voluntarily. See you around six, then?"

"Yeah." With that, she left, and he was alone with his thoughts. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse than being caged.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm going to tear my hair out, Kitty, I swear to God. You thought there was too much testosterone around this place before?"

From the open laptop sitting on Rae's desk, Kitty Pryde laughed over Skype while she went through her ballet warmup exercises. "God, remember when everyone was younger? That place was a zoo."

"Ugh, it's madhouse, now." Rae matched Kitty's movements, though she'd opted for leggings and a tanktop and was barefoot heedless of the fact it was mid November whereas Kitty had bundled up somewhat with leg warmers and a sweater.

"Plus half the kids are freaked out by Logan out in the woods, not to mention-"

"The wolf in sheep's clothing?"

Rae snorted as she stretched up onto her toes. "More like the not-so-declawed lion living one room over."

"You honestly aren't afraid of having him so close? Or even in the same solar system?"

It wasn't like Rae hadn't asked herself that a dozen times over in the last few weeks. She wondered sometimes if she'd gone insane.

"He's not the same person, Kit, it's like... he's more like Logan, or at least how Logan used to be." She dropped into a _plie_. "I wouldn't say I trust him, entirely, but I've seen Logan throw a tree-demolishing shitfit in the last week while Victor just ends up talking to me about my thesis and watching _Star Trek_ reruns."

She stretched up again, one hand over her hand, the other gesturing towards Kitty. "How is this even my life?"

"And now you know why I decided to go halfway across the country for school," Kitty replied. "Is everyone else still freaking out over it?"

Rae shrugged into a shoulder roll. "Yes and no. The ones who already hated it, like Rogue, hate it even more. Everyone else is just kind of... resigned to dealing with it."

"They're avoiding you, aren't they?"

Rae touched a finger to her nose and then pointed at Kitty. "Too smart by half." She glanced to her left, at the wall her room shared with Victor's. "It sucks but I'm handling it. Half the time I'm too busy with school to even think about anyone else, and the other half I'm running interference so we don't end up with a repeat performance by Doctor Wolverine."

Kitty snorted, moving into basic stretches. "I wish I could do more to help with Logan. He's stubborn even when he's not playing Wild Man of Borneo."

"I'm telling him you called him that."

"I'll deny it with my last breath!" Kitty's laughing declaration turned into a yawn. "Cripes, I think that quadruple-shot latte I had is wearing off, and I'm still hip-deep in essays. I gotta let you go, hon."

Rae threw a half-assed salute. "Same here but with reading. I'll catch you later, Kit."

They signed off and Rae sighed and opened her music program, scrolling through until she found her dance mix. The slower classical pieces weren't what she needed at the moment; she went straight for the Lindsey Stirling.

Violin filled the space of her room and she let herself get lost in it, in the physicality of dance. There hadn't been opportunity for it when she'd been little, but when she came to Xavier's and met Kitty as a roommate, the Jewish woman was more than happy to have someone else who wanted to learn ballet.

She'd never be anything other than an amateur but she still loved it.

It was easy to lose track of time that way, shutting out the world and everything that was stressing her, at least until someone knocked on her door.

"Yeah?" she called, transitioning to some cooldown stretching.

Victor opened the door, one eyebrow raised. "I ain't interruptin', am I?"

Rae shook her head. "I was mostly done anyway. My music didn't bother you, did it?"

He shrugged one massive shoulder. "Nah, was just kind of... staring at the ceiling. Realized it was getting late, wasn't sure if you'd grabbed dinner yet or…"

She looked at the clock, saw it was past seven. "Shit, I'm sorry. You should have come and gotten me earlier."

"I'm already takin' up enough of your time as it is."

"It's not-"

"Is that a raven on your arm?"

The abrupt topic change pulled her up short, made her blink and stand up straight from where she'd folded herself in half to stretch. She glanced at the tattoo that spanned from the top of her left shoulder down to the elbow, realized he'd never seen her out of long sleeves.

"Uh, yeah. My people are Tlingit, my tribe is Raven. I went with something more stylized since the ones specific to my family are considered their property, not mine."

She could feel his eyes on her as she hit the spacebar on her laptop to stop the music, then reached for her hoodie and pulled it on.

"Anyway, no, I haven't eaten yet," she replied. "Hopefully there's something left, I think Jimmy came home today and that boy doesn't understand the meaning of leftovers."

Victor stepped back into the hallway when she approached, falling into step when she headed out and towards the stairs that would take them up a level.

"Heard you cussin' someone out on the phone earlier," he said, tone conversational.

Rae snorted in response as they hit the main floor. "Just bumping up against barriers in my thesis research, people who don't want to talk to me when I call for interviews, some asshole who was trying to tell me I'm somehow not 'Native enough', whatever the hell that means."

That phone call had been a doozy and she'd nearly ended up breaking her cellphone once she'd hung up.

"And then I'm halfway to strangling one of my professors who thinks I only got into the grad program because of my ethnicity, never mind my high grade point average, and now I'm babbling again."

He breathed out a laugh. "S'ok, I'm sure everyone else is sick of listenin' to ya, when they ain't stayin' away."

"I don't regret-"

"Part o' you does." Victor stopped her just inside the thankfully-empty kitchen with a hand on her arm; he'd done it so often in the last few months that it wasn't weird or startling anymore. "They're your friends and family, it ain't gonna feel good when they avoid you because o' me, because you're helpin' me."

 _Because you're the only one who gives a shit_ seemed to remain unspoken, hanging in the space between them.

Rae's shoulders slumped, her head dropping slightly. "It won't stop me," she replied quietly. "I'm stubborn and I believe it's the right thing." She lifted her head again. "How are things going with Charles?"

He breathed out again, this time a sigh. "I don't even know, really? 'Tween him and the doc, they said a lot of my memories are damaged or just... gone, mostly been tryin' to figure out what's there and what's not. It's like a puzzle with a billion pieces an' none of 'em fit."

It wasn't a surprise, not really, and Rae could be honest enough with herself to admit that she wasn't sure what she was feeling about that. The goal had always been to help Victor, to ease the predatorial drive to kill so that he could be rehabilitated and make some kind of restitution for his crimes.

But what happened if he couldn't even remember them? Was it fair to punish someone who was fundamentally a different person?

It was almost like a case where the perpetrator had been mentally ill or high on drugs, and couldn't remember or control what they'd done. In those cases they were usually punished but with hospitalization. They couldn't be allowed to escape justice so they got the next best thing.

When Rae wasn't studying for class she was reading case histories along those lines, looking for... Well, she wasn't sure _what_ she was looking for. The whole situation made her feel uneasy and frustrated, helpless in a way she hadn't felt since she was a child.

"I know it ain't been easy on you," he said, breaking into her thoughts as she went to the fridge. "An' I wish it wasn't like this. Thanks, for believin' in me."

That right there, the fact he was thanking her and worried about her well-being? The old Victor Creed wouldn't have done that, not even to give her a false sense of security. He'd have choked on those words.

"You're welcome," she replied, reaching up absently to play with the industrial piercing in her left ear. "And I'm sorry it's been so difficult for you to remember anything."

His voice was a low, nearly-unintelligible murmur when he said, "I'm beginnin' to wonder if maybe that's for the best." His hands flexed at his sides, first into fists and then with the fingers splayed wide. "I can tell that whatever it is I did, it was… ugly. I keep havin' nightmares."

That declaration made her heart clench and she was halfway across the room to touch him, comfort him, before she stopped herself.

Those striking amber eyes were focused squarely on her, confusion and not a little disappointment in them, like he'd hoped she'd help him that way. She had to remind herself that she needed to keep this … she couldn't call it a relationship, or even a friendship, when she acted as his prison warden in all but name.

But _whatever_ it was, she needed to keep it impersonal. If not for her sake, then for his.

 _You always were the empathetic one,_ she thought, for once angry at herself for that. _Always the one who gets too involved and ends up-_

She instinctively shied away from that line of thinking, of what had nearly happened to her in undergrad with a guy who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

"There anything in the fridge?"

Rae startled, confused for a moment before turning and opening the door. "Dammit, yeah, Jimmy's been here. Too many people running around this place with healing factors and eating all the food." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Guess we're ordering in. Got any preferences?"

* * *

Rae brought the delivered food downstairs to the room they'd turned into a lounge, having managed to find a couch that wasn't too small for Victor.

Said feral was sprawled out flipping through TV stations, the remote looking kind of ridiculous in his huge, clawed hand.

"Sometimes I'm surprised there are even places that will still deliver to us," Rae said as she set the heavy bag of Vietnamese food down on the coffee table and sat in an armchair. "I seem to remember several different drivers being scared off."

Victor snorted, sitting up to accept his order of _com dac biet._ "Yeah, I've run into that before," he said, then he abruptly went still. "Weird that I can remember that happenin' but not anything that's actually important."

Rae had frozen in opening her order of edamame, unsure of how to react to his obvious discomfort.

It wasn't the first time he'd remembered something that seemed inconsequential, some little piece of ephemera that shouldn't have meant much but served to make it obvious just how much he'd lost.

"You'd think I'd be used to this by now," he said softly, sitting back on the couch with a frustrated growl.

"Actually, I'm not surprised," Rae replied. "You have the closest thing to focal retrograde amnesia, it makes sense you'd remember things when you aren't actively trying to."

"Except I've got a healing factor, shouldn't that have fixed it? Or at least made some kinda difference?"

Rae shrugged. "We know from experience that the brain can repress and alter memories even without a traumatic brain injury. And it's only been a few weeks."

Victor grumbled something and then turned his attention to his food.

Rae sighed and did the same, reaching for the remote he'd abandoned. She managed to find a rerun of _Babylon 5_ that was sufficiently distracting, at least until her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Popping a few beans into her mouth, she pulled her phone out to find a text from Kitty. _You might want to turn on CNBC._

She cut Ivanova off mid-sentence to find Trish Tilby sitting at the newsdesk, looking polished as usual, her hands folded together on top of a stack of papers.

"What're you-"

"Hush a sec," she replied, turning up the volume as Tilby began to speak.

 _"Some months ago, we broke the news that a new, mysterious illness had struck the mutant community. There was little enough information at that time, such as where the virus came from, and why it only affected mutants."_

The camera angle changed. _"Speculation ran wild and we did our best to keep you informed, to calm the rampant miscommunications and accusations. We wanted to prevent any kind of retaliation against innocent parties."_

"Where the hell is she goin' with this?" Victor rumbled, picking at his food. "That's old news."

Rae shrugged, feeling uneasy.

 _"Since we first reported months ago, we've been informed by credible sources that the Legacy Virus, as it's been called, was released into our atmosphere by the mutant terrorist known as Stryfe."_

The camera focused in closer. _"And we now have confirmation that this virus, transmitted through the air and causing a 100% death rate, has spread to the human population."_

Rae dropped her fork, hand covering her mouth. "Oh my god," she whispered, shaking her head in denial.

Whatever Victor had been about to say in reply was cut off by a roar of anger somewhere in the mansion above them.

Rae's hand dropped and she went pale. "Hank, oh my god, he must not have known Trish was going to go on air with this."

Crashing sounds followed the yelling.

"They need you more than I do," Victor said, waving her away. "Go help your friends."

She hesitated a moment, then set her food down and sprinted for the stairs.

The main rec room, where people usually gathered to watch TV or play games together, was in shambles. A clear path from the television to the opposite door showed where Hank's rampage had led.

Ororo stood off to one side, eyes caught somewhere between their usual blue and the white haze they took on when she was using her powers.

"Are you okay?" Rae asked.

"Yes, child," Ororo replied, reaching out with a shaking hand to touch Rae's arm. "I was not expecting such news."

"I don't think any of us saw this coming. I'm gonna follow Hank, make sure he hasn't done anything… drastic."

Ororo nodded. "Be careful, Rae, he is… not well, at the moment."

Rae figured that was an understatement, but she was used to dealing with volatile emotions among her teammates. And it wasn't as if she wasn't uniquely-equipped to handle that sort of situation.

It took a few minutes to figure out where Hank had gone, but she finally tracked him to his workshop. The fact he hadn't destroyed anything down there didn't actually make her feel better; it just meant he was simmering after the explosion.

"I'm not fit company right now, Raina," he said, crouched in a corner.

"I'm a big girl, Hank." Still, she kept her distance, stayed near the door even though she'd need to be close if the time came to user her pheromones. She believed in giving people the space they needed.

He growled something before rising to his feet, hands curled into fists. "How _could_ she?" he demanded, pacing restlessly. "I know we didn't part on the best of terms, but this is devastating news that should have been handled with delicacy. This could _kill_ innocent people."

"Have you heard from Moira? She was the one studying this closely, wouldn't she have contacted you about it jumping species?"

Hank stopped short, staring at Rae for a moment before he fumbled in his pocket until he had his phone.

She eased back, leaning against the wall by the door now that the tension level had lowered somewhat. She knew things could ramp up again within seconds but, for now, she could relax a little.

And then Hank threw his phone across the room. It hit the all about a foot from Rae's head with a sharp crack.

"Hank." She could see he'd reached his limit, he'd already been hanging by a thread.

He growled low in his chest, his eyes not entirely human when she took a step forward and released a cloud of calming pheromones.

"Take a second and breathe."

She listened and watched him calm gradually, his shoulders relaxing and the low growl slowly subsiding.

"Thank you," he said finally. "I apologize for throwing my phone near you."

Rae snorted. "It's fine, but _why_ did you throw it?"

"I got Moira's voicemail and I confess it sparked rage rather than annoyance."

"I can see how that would happen." Rae closed the distance between them, reaching for Hank's arm. "We'll figure it out. _You'll_ figure it out, because that's what you do. You've always got the answers."

"You have more faith in me than I have in myself." He patted her hand on his arm and then stepped away again. "You have a presentation at school in the morning. You should be focused on that, not an old man's ill temper."

Rae groaned. "Ugh, why did you remind me?" she asked, slumping. "I was trying to ignore it. I mean, I'm prepared, but I'm still trying to ignore it."

Hank chuckled. "Because I know you. Go finish your dinner and get some sleep so you are ready."

* * *

She found Victor still watching _Babylon 5_ when she made her way back downstairs.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I think so," she replied, sinking onto the couch next to him without really thinking of it. It felt better than sitting by herself at the moment, and she didn't feel like exploring that impulse too closely.

He accepted that answer, handing her the container that held her now-lukewarm phở.

"Thanks." She let good food and good TV push back any lingering dread that remained.

Some time later she found herself being nudged and realized she'd fallen asleep with her head against Victor's arm.

"Get to bed," he rumbled, sounding amused. "Y'got class in the mornin', right?"

Rae nodded, feeling a little disoriented. "Yeah, early class, then a presentation, then luckily it's final exams I can do remotely so I don't have to go back until January." A wide yawn cracked her jaws and she blinked. "Shit, okay, yeah. Bed. Going."

Victor pushed her to her feet with a soft laugh. "If I don't see you before, good luck."

She bit her lip and then smiled. "Thanks."


	8. Chapter 8

Rae should have expected there would be protesters on campus when she got there the next morning. There were only a handful when she emerged from the subway a block away, holding up various signs that all said just how they felt about mutants.

It hurt. She was used to it, but it still hurt. And those were her feelings as one of the mutants that could pass for "normal"; ones like Kurt and Hank had to rely on things like image inducers or just not go out in public.

As she walked past, head down, she felt the sleeve of her coat being grabbed.

"Are you aware that NYU allows mutants to study here?" The woman looked like someone's sweet old grandma, more suited to knitting sweaters for little yappy-type dogs than spouting hateful rhetoric outside a college. "Are you okay with that?"

Rae felt her heart speed up but she kept her face and voice neutral. "I'm late for class," she said, tugging her sleeve free and giving the rest of them a wide berth.

It wasn't much better once she got inside the tech building. Every TV in the hallways was tuned to a news station where the anchors and correspondents were having paroxysms of glee over the kind of controversy that kept them employed.

She barely kept herself from growling when she passed one showing CNBC and Trish Tilby. They still weren't sure how or why Trish had been the one to break the news or who'd leaked it to her in the first place, though Rae expected that by the time she got back home, they'd have answers.

"Hey, you okay?"

Rae started, taking a step back before she recognized her classmate, Toby.

"Yeah, uh, just got harassed by some protesters on my way in," she replied.

Toby nodded, setting her pale blonde ponytail swinging. "They're rather like vultures, aren't they?"

"Mmm, that's one word for it." Rae resumed her journey to one of the computer labs, Toby falling into step with her. "It would be nice if we could keep them off campus, but they have just as much right to be assholes as anyone else."

It was difficult to sit through her first class, and she found her attention wandering more than once.

By the time she had to do her presentation, she felt on the verge of a panic attack, but she'd been taught by Logan and Betsy to redirect her anxiety into action instead of reaction. She got through it without any hiccups aside from the projector in that classroom acting up at the beginning.

Her advisor, Professor Bell, pulled her aside when she was on her way back out.

"You might want to avoid your usual path," he said, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Some of those protesters have been sniffing around and I'm not sure if they know you're… well, what you are."

Rae knew he was avoiding the m-word out of fear for her safety, but it still stung. She was just as a much of a person as he was, as _anyone_ was.

"I… Thanks for the warning. I can take the long way around, I guess, I'm not in any hurry."

"Just be careful."

Watching him walk away, she shot off a text to several people back at the mansion, alerting them she was about to leave and that she might be a little late.

The handful of protesters from earlier had turned into a mob. She could hear them shouting vile things, bolstered by the power of numbers; they'd split so that anyone walking down the sidewalk would have to go through them.

The long way around would take her through some quiet parts of campus and between buildings, but hopefully that would let her avoid any unpleasantness.

She made it almost all the way before she was grabbed and pushed up against the side of a building.

"You're one of them!"

Rae blinked, hands curling into fists despite herself. "I think you've got the wrong person," she lied, trying to pull away. "I'm just trying to walk here, let me go."

Even with her training, she knew she wasn't stronger against men even a little bigger than her, and there were three of them who'd followed her.

"We know you're one of them muties from Westchester, ain't like you hide it very well."

"And I'm just trying to live my life," she spat back, "so let me go, I'm not hurting anyone."

"Your kind hid your disease in plain sight and now it's killing actual _people-"_

Rae jerked back, instinct kicking in. The heel of her hand took the one who'd grabbed her in the chin, whipping his head back, and then she was ducking away from a punch.

The third one tackled her before she could run very far. She tucked her head between her arms to take the impact with the pavement, her feet already kicking out at grasping hands. She heard someone grunt when she connected.

Pain exploded in her abdomen, a booted foot striking her before she could get up or away. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think past it, which meant she wasn't in control when she released her pheromones.

Nor was she in control of exactly what those pheromones did. She didn't have time to choose, to pick anything other than fear; one of the men reacted with fight instead of flight, his heavy fist catching her temple before he was dragged away by his equally-frightened buddies.

Rae dry-heaved, swaying on hands and knees and then stumbling to her feet, shaking from the adrenaline surge. She made it into the shadows between buildings in hopes she could be left alone long enough to catch her breath.

The scent of brimstone accompanied by a _bamf_ swung her around to find Kurt Wagner in his handsome human guise, regarding her with ill-concealed worry.

"Oh, _danke Gotte,"_ he breathed out, stepping forward to grip Rae's forearms and steady her. "Charles was worried when your text came through, _liebchen,_ and sent me to find you. Thankfully you hadn't turned off the GPS on your phone."

Rae leaned heavily against him, her vision swimming from the blow to her head. "Home, Kurt. Please."

* * *

Under normal circumstances, she could have remained conscious through the series of 'ports it would take to get home, but even at her best it always affected her.

She came to on one of the diagnostic beds in the medbay, two growling voices snapping at each other.

"Victor?"

"Yeah, babe?"

She blinked against the lights, or at least she tried to since her left eye wouldn't open all the way.

"What're you doing down here?"

"He was having his weekly scan," Hank answered, pushing the feral mutant back slightly so that he could examine her wounds. "I couldn't get him to leave when Kurt brought you home."

Victor snarled, growling until Rae touched his hand.

"It's okay," she said, not sure exactly who she was trying to reassure. The room was set to a slow spin so she closed her eyes again. She felt Victor curl his fingers around hers, fever-warm against her cool skin.

"We should have had you stay home," Hank said after a few moments.

"Hindsight," Rae murmured, inhaling through gritted teeth when he started cleaning her face. "And I'd have refused anyway, I have just as much right to be there as they do."

Hank made a non-committal noise as he went about his task.

"You at least give as good as you got?"

Rae huffed a laugh at Victor's question. "Maybe, I'm honestly not sure." Her hand squeezed his when Hank gently placed butterfly strips over a spot where her skin had split, just above her eyebrow. "I connected a few times but didn't see what I did before they ran off in reaction to my pheromones."

"How'd they even know you're a mutant?" Victor asked.

"Not entirely sure, my advisor mentioned some of them had been asking around, and it's not like I've hidden my face as one of the X-Men or been shy about who my friends are."

Rae caught Hank's hand before he could move away again. "Did you find out how the virus jumped?"

Hank sighed as he gathered up the packaging from the first aid supplies he'd used on her. "I was finally able to get in touch with Moira." He paused, breathing deeply. "One of the first mutants to show symptoms was the one we knew only as Infectia. She was staying on Muir Island so that Moira could take care of her and study the virus."

"Wait, wasn't she able to manipulate her own genetic code?" Rae asked, sitting up with Victor's help.

"And that's exactly what she did with the virus," Hank answered. "Moira's not sure if it was intentional, and we may never know. Infectia passed away two nights ago; Moira took every precaution in handling the body but the mutated virus was released."

Rae swore under her breath. "Do we know who the first human patient is, then?"

Hank finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, and she knew.

"It's Moira, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"Well, if she didn't have the drive to find a cure before, she sure as hell has one now." She reached out to her friend, touching his arm. "I'm sorry, Hank, I know she's a close friend."

He nodded again, pulling away from her touch long enough to throw away the trash and then hand her several ice packs.

"You have a slight concussion, nothing serious but you'll need to be monitored overnight. You are of course welcome to stay here, as I don't anticipate sleeping tonight myself."

Rae opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by Victor squeezing her hand.

"I can keep an eye on you," he offered quietly.

"Don't you think it would be better if-"

"Hank." Rae held up a hand, not in the mood for bickering. "It's fine. I'd be more comfortable in my own room. I'll be okay."

The two men stood on either side of her where she sat on the bed, eyeing each other but not saying anything.

Finally the furry blue mutant nodded. "You can take some acetaminophen if you need to. Just let me know how you're doing in the morning."

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts?" Rae asked as she settled herself on the couch in their lounge, lying against one of the arms with a pillow and an ice pack against her head.

Victor shrugged. "Y'need anything?"

"The bottle of water and the Excedrin on my desk would be lovely, please." The pain that hadn't been there before was now starting to throb from the epicenter of her temple, she could feel it working its way down her neck.

Rae turned the TV on low just for the background noise; silence suddenly felt oppressive, or maybe she just didn't want to listen to the panic slowly crowding her mind.

Victor returned a minute later, handing off the goods when she made grabby hands at them. Four pills should be enough, she thought, it wasn't like she didn't have a doctor on site in case she overdosed.

"Hey, no nappin'," he said, nudging her foot with his leg when he sat down beside her.

"'M not napping," she said, blinking at him. "Trying to fight off a migraine."

He watched her for a moment, some undefinable emotion crossing his face before he was back to impassivity. Whatever agitation he'd seemed to feel back in the medbay was gone like it had never been there, if it had even been there to begin with. He'd been displaying a remarkable lack of anger or rage in the last few weeks despite his frustration.

"Need anything else?"

Rae sighed and leaned back again, still holding the ice pack to her head. "No, I just…" Her breath came out in a shudder, along with a whispered, "Fuck."

"Hey." He reached out, his hand wrapping around her wrist as she started to tremble, her breath coming fast and shallow as her throat tried to close up.

Hot tears spilled down her face, a strangled sob breaking free when he pulled her towards him. She didn't question it, didn't have anything left to make her hesitate when someone was offering comfort that she desperately needed.

She'd spent enough time in close proximity to Logan that Victor's scent was soothing, too. It reminded her of the outdoors, musk, forest, and fur that meant safety and family.

He pulled her closer, onto his lap, with one big hand cupping the back of her neck, careful of his claws though she still felt them graze her scalp briefly. She buried her face in his shoulder, a sob making her entire body shake, her hands clenching in his shirt.

He didn't say anything. He probably didn't know _what_ to say, had probably never been in this position before. Never had anyone trust him or seek his comfort even in the middle of a panic attack.

Slowly, gradually, she calmed, her breath evening out. Only then did she become aware of the soft rumble that was coming from Victor's chest.

"Are- are you _purring?"_ she asked suddenly, pulling away enough to look up at him.

The sound died immediately. His body went tense under hers.

Rae didn't pursue it when he didn't respond, instead moving off of his lap and reaching for the rest of her water.

"Sorry for crying all over you," she said quietly, not making eye contact with him. Her stomach clenched, her heart skipping again when she realized that, despite her best efforts, she'd let the line blur between them.

She felt vulnerable in a way she hadn't during the attack at school, exposed like a raw nerve where any stray breeze would bring agonizing pain.

But no one else was comforting her. She knew her friends and teammates were around, any of them could have come to check on her, sent her a text to make sure she was okay.

No, it was Victor who offered to keep an eye on her and held her while she cried. Victor who had apparently refused to leave the medbay until he could make sure she was safe.

Victor Creed, one of the deadliest villains the X-Men had ever dealt with, wasn't treating her like a fucking pariah.

Rae kept her head down and looked at him from beneath her lashes, tried to make sure her breathing didn't change.

He was staring at his hands, his claws fully retracted but they still couldn't pass for human.

She watched as they slowly began to flex into fists.

Victor looked up, startled, when she shifted closer and touched his shoulder, pushing his blond hair back.

"Thank you," she said.

He gave a little half-shrug, half-nod, eyes still showing surprise when she didn't pull away.

Damn her for a fool, but when he put his arm around her again, she settled against him like she belonged there.


	9. Chapter 9

Logan decided he wanted a POV section so... yeah. But you get more Victor first.

* * *

When Victor had woken up that morning, head aching from yet another nightmare, he hadn't expected to end the day with Rae sprawled out across his body, twitching and murmuring in a fitful sleep.

He ran his hand up her back, ending with cupping the back of her neck, and she settled again, her grip on his shirt loosening. She'd relaxed like that earlier but he hadn't thought too much about it, didn't assign any value to it beyond that it worked.

She trusted him. The realization of that was like a kick in the head, enough to make him think he was dreaming.

The reality was warm and real and solid against his chest and under his hands. She'd taken her hair out of the tight bun she'd had it in, the pressure making her headache worse. Now it was loosely braided, the dark, sleek length of it snaking off to the side. Once she'd fallen asleep he hadn't been able to resist playing with the end of it.

He let the pads of his fingers trace the fine bones at the base of her skull, claws barely grazing her scalp; he felt her shiver, her hand on his shoulder spasming for a moment. He pressed a little harder, drawing a muted sound from deep in her throat before he eased up.

He didn't feel the expected, instinctual bone-deep need for violence, just the little voice in his head that whispered how easy it would be to snap her neck. It tried to lure him by telling him how fragile she was, how simple it would be to slip his hand down a little further and open her vein before she even knew what had happened. She was weak, a _frail,_ kind and compassionate and everything he'd apparently hated in the not-so-distant past.

That was the nightmare he'd woken up from that morning. Her blood coating his hands to the wrists, her body broken and empty at his feet, eyes lifeless but still staring at him in accusation.

He hadn't wanted to open his eyes to see if it was real, but keeping them closed meant he'd keep seeing it, keep reliving it.

He'd heard her moving around in her room, then, humming to herself while she got ready to leave for class. She sounded happy based on her choice of music (because apparently he'd figured out how to tell her mood from something other than scent or body language).

It would have been a lie to say he wasn't worried about her going into the city. He knew she could hold her own and that she'd be too fucking stubborn to stay home; she'd spit in the devil's eye if it meant standing up for her beliefs, just like she was doing by defying everyone around her to help Victor.

The worry felt new, though, like he'd never really given a shit about anyone before. Rae had let little crumbs of information drop, probably unintentionally, enough that he could piece together a picture of who and what he'd been: a monster, a killer with no remorse who kind of got off on all the bloodshed. The memories Xavier was trying to help him access painted their own vivid landscape.

He didn't recognize the man in those fractured viewings, the one who took joy in killing for the sake of killing, whose only acknowledgement towards the value of a life was found in the exhilaration of the hunt and the kill.

Part of him felt numb to it, didn't understand how he could be driven to do those things. It wasn't like he didn't have _any_ feral urges, but the bloodlust from before was just… gone.

He worried it was just buried rather than burnt out, waiting for him to drop his guard and assert itself again.

Rae shifted again, breathing out in a sigh.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"What makes you think I'm not?"

She laughed softly, lifting her head and bracing herself on her forearms, so that she was looking at him from a few inches away. Her unbruised cheekbone was pink from being pressed to his chest, and up close he could pick out little flecks of gold in her dark brown eyes.

"You're mostly muscle and you keep tensing up, it's like laying on a brick wall."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Victor shrugged, making her shift on top of him. He didn't speak while she settled herself again, sliding until she was between him and the back of the couch, his arm cradling her.

"Just thinkin' about all the shit I'm supposed to've done, all the shit Xavier's draggin' up in our sessions, all the brain scans tellin' me I'm a different person."

He could smell her curiosity, mixed in with her ever-present scent of pine, a forest at the edge of the sea. The wariness that had been there as recently as that afternoon was gone, erased by sleep and mixing with his own scent into something wild and vital.

"An' I'm tryin' to figure out what changed between us."

She didn't stiffen like he expected. Her hand smoothed across the front of his shirt, fingers brushing along his collarbone. "Would you believe me if I said I wasn't entirely sure?"

He huffed a laugh. "I can smell you ain't lyin', so yeah, I'd believe you."

"Does it matter?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"I'm just…" She sighed, lifting her head from where it rested against his shoulder to look at him again. The bruising around her eye had deepened into blues and blacks, an ugly splotch of color over the tan of the rest of her skin. "I'm tired of lying, of obfuscating everything. No one else wants this burden but everyone has a fucking opinion on it and they're all fucking wrong."

 _That_ changed her scent, a spike of anger that made her hand clench into a fist.

"Don't isolate yourself 'cause o' me."

Rae made a derisive noise. "I'm not, Victor, I promise you that. Hard not to see some of them as hypocrites, Rogue herself was with the Brotherhood in the past and Xavier took her in after what she did to Carol Danvers. But now she sits there thinking she's better than you and that you don't deserve the same chance?

"Believe me, if I'm isolated, it's not self-imposed."

Her vehemence was a little shocking but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it, didn't like having her in his corner. Didn't like having her warm and soft snugged up tight along his side.

Instinct told him not to push her boundaries, but those feral urges that weren't entirely gone were stronger than human logic.

He touched her face, the pads of his fingers tracing the line of her high, unbruised cheekbone, up to tuck her hair behind her ear. When his claws grazed her scalp he felt a shiver like before when she'd still been asleep; her eyelids dropped halfway and she breathed out a little shakily, her scent softening from anger into arousal.

"Victor?" Fuck him if that husky voice saying his name like he meant something to her didn't short-circuit higher brain function. He wondered if she'd stop him .

He answered with his mouth on hers, gentle but not at all hesitant.

She didn't. Her lips parted for him, a sweet little moan low in her throat accompanying her tongue across his lower lip. One hand rested against the side of his neck, her nails digging in a little, enough to make him want more.

He tasted blood and realized she'd nicked her tongue on his fangs. A growl erupted from him and he pulled her closer, ending with her on her back on the couch, his body pushing her legs apart. He nosed at her jaw, scentmarking her, pushed so that her throat was bared to him and he could lick along her pulse where it thudded like a trip hammer.

One of her hands tangled in his hair, little shocks of pain when her fingers tightened and pulled; the other curled against the back of his shoulder. She moaned for him when he nipped her neck, kept her throat bared even when he pulled back to look at her.

Her eyes were all pupil, irises engulfed in black, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. Her tongue darted out to wet them.

Victor dipped his head again, caught her lower lip with his teeth and bit just shy of breaking skin. It felt off to him, to stop before causing damage, like his body was telling him to keep going, push farther. He wanted to know how she'd look after he marked her as his, wanted to know what sounds she'd make as she came around him while he had his teeth set in her neck.

"You're thinking again." Her voice was amused but her scent held concern.

His answer was an annoyed grumble. Couldn't his stupid brain just shut up for five seconds? Especially with Rae lying there smelling like that, looking at him like she wanted him, like she _trusted_ him…

He licked over her mouth again and then nipped her neck, her collarbone, scentmarked her breasts on his way down. He heard her gasp softly when his fingers pinched a nipple, her hips rocking against him and a fresh wave of pheromones hitting his nose like a drug.

"Victor?" Her voice already sounded wrecked, barely made it through the animal in him so that he was already nuzzling between her legs by the time he looked up at her, his hands gripping her behind the knees and pushing up to keep her thighs open. She was already wet enough he could feel it.

Her head dropped back and her spine bowed, her body trembling for a moment before she tried to sit up.

"Vic, stop," she said, fear trickling into her scent.

He growled at her, hooking his claws in the waistband of her leggings and shredding the material for a few inches before she bucked against him.

" _Stop."_

The trickle became a flood at his next growl, more of a snarl, his claws extending and opening shallow cuts down her pelvis and the top of her thigh.

She cried out again, this time in pain, and for half a second it was _too much,_ the animal smelled fresh blood and wanted more.

Clarity hit him hard, spilled him from the couch onto his ass, and when he looked up at her she was holding a hand out towards him. Her hair was a mess, her face pale, the other hand pressed to the wound he'd left.

Victor scrambled to his feet and ran, hit the door to his room and stood there gulping air. The lingering scent of her blood and arousal had followed him and he couldn't think past what his instincts were telling him he wanted, what he _needed_ , and there was only one place he could think of to get away from it.

He went out the door to his terrace and vaulted the short stone wall, up onto the back lawn of the mansion. It wasn't terribly late, not even midnight yet, but no one else was out there. Just him and the trees and enough cold, fresh air that carried the promise of snow and drove back the beast.

He was a couple miles away from the school before he slowed down, still well within the grounds; he still had no idea exactly what the tracking bracelet would do, and for half a second he thought about trying to pull it off on the chance it would actually hurt him.

None of the memories Xavier had pulled out had hit him like this, visceral and real where he could feel flesh in his teeth, feel it part beneath his claws, taste blood in his mouth… Having Rae under him, willing as she'd been, had woken up something else, something he didn't like.

Even worse, he could remember other women, begging him to stop, and he hadn't. He hadn't _wanted_ to stop, hadn't cared enough to think beyond his own desires. Nothing else mattered.

Without intending to he extended his claws, became aware again that Rae's blood was smeared across his left palm, drying to rust on his skin. He wanted to shut out that scent, copper that mixed with the pine trees around him, the salt sea from the nearby inlet until all he could smell was her, all he could _see_ was her, broken and bleeding because of him.

Which meant he was distracted when 200 pounds of feral Wolverine slammed into his back, bone claws pinning one shoulder.

Victor reacted automatically, body memory and survival instinct kicking in. His longer arms meant he could reach back and pull Logan off, throw him a few feet away.

Logan skidded and popped back up, and Victor _knew_ him, knew this like he knew breathing, like he knew hunting and killing. Nature had made them both this way, slaves to the feral instincts they both carried like a blessing and a curse.

Victor leapt, didn't give his opponent time to think, sunk claws and teeth in and tore because he knew Logan could take it, wasn't going to break apart. And it meant he didn't have to smell or taste Rae's blood anymore.

He lost himself in the violence, in pain, in his body giving and taking, but he knew Logan's healing factor was stronger. Wasn't sure _why_ he knew that, not that it mattered, not when body memory was waking up _actual_ memory, flooding him with the last time he'd fought Logan.

He'd taunted him, threatened him, threatened all the women the shorter feral had chosen as his. Logan had a pack and Victor was the lone wolf snarling at the boundaries, the prideless lion who wanted it all without having to put the work in, even if all he would do was destroy it all later. That's what he _did_ , what he was _so fucking good_ at, what had led them to face each other again and again.

He'd threatened Rae. The only one who'd shown him mercy, shown him anything but pity and scorn, given him a chance to prove himself stronger than the animal. One of a handful out of a long line of women he hadn't seen as disposable, no matter what he'd told Logan he'd do to her.

What he'd been about to do to her before he ran like a fucking coward.

His breath left him in an explosive exhale, Logan's claws punching through his lung. Victor backhanded him away, coughed up blood and grinned.

"C'mon, Runt, gotta do better than that. 'Cause you're makin' me remember shit better left forgotten."

Logan growled. "You smell like Rae, like her blood," he said, his voice so low it almost hurt to hear it. He was losing his grip on himself, the feral regression that had started with him losing his adamantium. "If she's dead, Vic, I'll do the job right this ti-"

"Fuckin' _do_ somethin' about it, then."

Logan roared and charged, wasn't even trying for graceful, didn't care when some of his bone claws broke off. Didn't seem to care about a single wound, focused only on actually killing Victor once and for all.

And Victor fought back, but his heart wasn't in it anymore. He blocked, retreated, took wounds instead of inflicting them until Logan had him on his back, the last of his claws held ready for the kill.

They locked eyes, Logan's teeth bared in a snarl, eyes wild and full of rage.

Victor tilted his head back, bared his throat. "Just do it," he whispered. "Please."

* * *

Logan inhaled sharply, claws retracting with a sound of bone grating on bone. "What the _fuck?"_ he demanded, feeling the feral rage recede despite the animal telling him to strike while his enemy was vulnerable.

Victor didn't move when Logan got to his feet, taking his knee off the bigger man's torso. He just laid there looking like ten miles of bad road.

It had been months since the incident in the subbasement. Months since his hated rival had survived and somehow not gotten shoved in some forgotten hole.

Logan didn't feel remorse for what he'd done, for going after Victor when he knew Rae was distracted. Well, no, scratch that: he felt remorse for letting the asshole get him riled up enough to drag out the fight long enough for Rae or someone else to find them and put a stop to it.

Just his fucking luck Vic hadn't died.

And now here he was, smelling like Rae and blood and sex and distracted enough he hadn't even twitched before Logan tackled him. Which was fucking _weird,_ Vic had the same enhanced senses, should have heard Logan immediately. Instead he'd been standing there like an oblivious idiot staring at his hands like they belonged to someone else and he'd never seen them before.

Logan glanced at him again, brain running faster than it had in a long while. Ever since he lost the adamantium he'd been regressing, becoming more like his namesake and less capable of rational thought. The fight had cleared away some of the fog, the man processing what had just happened while the beast focused solely on his rival.

Kurt had been keeping him up to date, and hadn't mentioned anything about Vic's old self resurfacing. No one was dead or even hurt, Vic kept to himself and only interacted with Rae and Xavier. By all accounts he was a model citizen.

Except here he was, in Logan's territory, smelling like that but also smelling like shame. Like guilt. Both were things Vic had never expressed, probably never even felt. And he'd been smelling like that the entire time, Logan realized, from the moment he'd caught Vic's scent; the rage Logan had felt smelling Rae's blood had overridden every rational thought, left only the need for retribution.

"Still can't make good on that promise to kill me, can you?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Shove it up your ass."

That set Vic off on a laughing fit, still laying flat on his back and ignoring the snow starting to fall.

A distant burst of sound carried on the wind, then the scent of brimstone, and Logan knew Kurt was nearby. He didn't smell that Rae was with him, though, until they were closer.

Her breath came out in a shudder when she saw Logan and Vic unharmed, her shoulders slumping a little. She accepted Kurt's steadying arm around her.

Logan growled. "Did _he_ do that to you?" he asked, gesturing at her black eye. He couldn't smell blood on her, just antiseptic, so she must have cleaned up.

"What? No!" Her eyes darted to Vic, who was now sitting up but not looking in her direction. "It happened in the city this morning, there were protesters on campus and a few of them decided to come after me."

Logan snorted. "He still had your blood on him when he came out here."

Rae frowned before turning to Kurt, one hand on his arm.

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked, looking between the two ferals and back to her.

"I'll be fine, Kurt." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, backing away when he 'ported again.

Rae turned her attention back to Logan, her scent and body language full of anxiety.

"I think it was an accident, a reflexive action or something, like he didn't mean to do it."

"The fuck _was_ he tryin' to do?"

"None of your fucking business, Logan. If he'd actually meant to hurt me, if he'd reverted, do you think I'd be alive right now?"

 _That_ got Vic's attention, his head snapping up and eyes fixing on Rae.

"Fine, point for you. What the hell triggered that reaction?"

Rae shrugged. "If I knew that, it wouldn't have happened in the first place." She bit her lip, looking at Vic with concern rather than fear, her scent full of the former emotion. "I'm worried it'll happen again if we can't figure what caused it."

"Why do you care that much?" It was Logan's exact thought, but Vic was the one who voiced it. "I coulda killed you, wasn't that far off from a femoral artery."

Logan's head snapped around to look at him. Why the fuck was Vic _afraid?_

Rae blinked a few times, shivering at a sudden breeze cutting through the trees from the nearby cove. She must have been in a hurry to find the two ferals since she was only wearing leggings and a hoodie; she'd at least put boots on.

"Because I actually give a shit about you, Victor," she said, words soft but full of conviction. "If you don't understand why, I'm not sure it's something I could explain to you."

Logan rubbed at the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming.

"Alright, this is a fuckin' mess but you're gonna freeze to death if you're out here much longer."

"I'm not leaving him with you, Logan," Rae said, chin jutting defiantly.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Logan jerked his head in the direction of the boathouse. "Fuckin' c'mon, then. If we're gonna talk about this shit I at least want a beer."


	10. Chapter 10

Being in a small room with two on-edge ferals was the last place Rae wanted to be, but she also wasn't willing to leave them alone, not knowing the damage they were capable of inflicting on each other. The encounter in the subbasement was still fresh in her mind a few months later, enough that she dreamt about it and woke up in a cold sweat; she kept trying to stop it and it kept happening, over and over again.

Logan gestured for her to take the only comfortable seat, a worn recliner with a crocheted blanket thrown across the back that she pulled off, wrapping it around her shoulders and curling up in the chair; she'd made the blanket herself a few years ago, the yarn in shades of green and brown. At least there was a fire going, she knew Logan wasn't exactly averse to being cold.

The adrenaline rush was just now fading, leaving her shaky and a little nauseated. Her immediate thought when Victor had taken off was to go after him, but she'd realized she at least needed to do something about the wounds before heading out. Because she'd had a pretty good idea where he was going to end up.

He hadn't cut her deeply, just shallow surface wounds that stung more than anything, especially when she moved and the skin pulled, even covered with antibiotic ointment and a big gauze pad. She'd had worse as a child from her grandmother's barn cats.

She wondered if there was something wrong with her, that her initial urge had been to go after him, to make sure he was okay. Somehow she'd known he wasn't completely in control of himself, wasn't sure _how_ she knew since there was no hesitation in the way he touched her, the way he accepted that she was willing.

She hadn't been afraid until she'd tried to stop him, needed him to slow down because as much as she wanted to keep going? Things were moving too fast for her. Her body went where her affections went, where her heart went; she recognized that things had slowly been shifting between them, the sharpest turn happening that afternoon when he'd stayed in the medbay and then the lounge with her, kept an eye on her and made sure she ate.

She'd had another panic attack at one point in the evening, hadn't been able to do anything but focus on his touch, his voice telling her to breathe with him. By the end she'd been exhausted, wanted to sleep for a week, and her headache was coming back.

Victor hadn't complained when she'd stayed curled up in his lap. He'd just stretched out on the couch and told her he'd wake her up in a little while to check on her concussion.

After dozing for a bit she'd gone deeper into sleep, deep enough to dream, though all she could remember was something about a purring cat. It didn't take a psychologist to figure out that bit of symbolism.

He'd been stroking her back when she surfaced, and she'd wanted him to keep doing that but she could feel how tense he was.

And when he'd kissed her… Every argument she'd had with herself about not letting the lines blur just faded, gone like they didn't matter, not with his heavy body pressing her down, his big hands on her, the slightest brush of his talons fraying her senses…

Logan slamming the door on the refrigerator made her jerk back to the present. He handed off a beer to Victor, didn't bother giving Rae one since she didn't drink, and she was pretty sure there was nothing non-alcoholic within a couple miles of the boathouse at the moment.

He looked worse than she'd seen him in a while, ragged like all the humanity he clung to had fled. And it wasn't just his hair and sideburns growing longer, he _moved_ differently, more like his namesake.

"What the fuck has been goin' on with you?" The question was directed at Victor, who was leaning up against the mantle with his arms crossed. His clothes were torn and bloodstained, his hair a tangled mess that he was picking leaves out of.

Victor growled, but it didn't sound angry, just frustrated. "Why d'you even care? You're the one caused this in the first place."

Logan laughed, a harsh bark of sound. "It'd be easier if you were dead, yeah, but here you are in my fuckin' woods with some kinda death wish."

Rae felt her stomach drop. "What?" she asked, but was ignored.

"So like I asked: what the fuck is goin' on with you?"

"If I knew that it wouldn't be a problem." Victor shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Been workin' with Xavier, lookin' through my memories, tryin' to figure out if who I used t' be is still there."

"He's been having nightmares and migraines," Rae put in.

"How d'you know that?" Victor asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I know cats like to hide when they're hurting, but I get migraines, too, I know the signs. And even if you hadn't already told me about the nightmares, you're not exactly quiet when you have one."

"She tellin' the truth?" Logan asked.

Victor glared for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, happens after every session. Figured it was just a side effect of all the psychic shit. "

"I mean, that's true the first few times, but that should've faded by-"

"Rae." Logan's voice was sharp but he didn't sound angry with her. "Shut your mouth for a minu-"

Victor's snarl cut him off. "Don't fuckin' snap at her," he said, standing up to his full height.

"Calm the fuck down," Logan shot back. His expression was weird, like he'd eaten something that disagreed with him. "You had any violence issues afterwards?"

Victor shook his head and took a long pull off his beer. "Nothin'."

"Then what made you hurt Rae?"

The bigger feral hunched his shoulders, eyes on the floor, body language screaming he didn't want to answer.

"Maybe it was doing something physical instead of just-"

" _Rae."_ This time, there was anger. "I need _him_ to tell me, not you."

"He's just gonna lie or obfuscate-"

Logan crossed the room, dropped a hand on her shoulder. "I still need to hear it from him. You had a shitty day, go lay down in my room, try to get some sleep."

"Logan…"

His hand squeezed. "I ain't gonna hurt him, not now." He pulled her to her feet, tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "You trust me?"

She wanted to say no, because she still felt like Victor was her responsibility, her charge. Hell, just _hers_ , to protect and worry about.

She knew the two ferals could smell her anxiety, her need to stay, but she finally nodded. "Yeah, Logan, I trust you. Please, help him. I can't do it."

"I got this." He leaned up, kissed her forehead and tucked her hair back behind her ear. "Go sleep, you can't get yourself into trouble doin' that."

That got a small laugh from her. "You'd be surprised."

* * *

Victor watched Rae go, shutting the door to the bedroom behind her after looking at him for a moment. He'd heard every word she said despite her talking softly, her tone possessive in a way he didn't understand.

He wanted to tell her he wasn't worth it.

"Of all the girls," Logan said, pulling a fresh six pack of beer out of the fridge, "you just had to go an' imprint on that one, didn't you?"

Victor finished off his beer and caught the new one Logan tossed to him. "You pissed 'cause she's yours?"

Logan snorted. "Nah, 'cause she's obnoxiously stubborn." He snagged a beat up wooden chair from the equally-worn two-seater dining table, turned it backwards and sat in it. "Ain't no one better to have in your corner, but she tends to listen to her heart over everything else."

"Not gonna tell me to keep my hands off her?"

"No point," Logan said, twisting the top off his beer and taking a long swallow. "Girl's decided you're worth protectin', I ain't got the kind of energy it takes to pry her loose."

"After everything I did, I don't get her."

"Welcome to havin' someone give a fuck about you even if you think you ain't earned it. Feels like a noose sometimes."

Victor rolled the bottle between his big palms, tried to ignore the churning in his gut. "It ever get easier?"

"Fuck, no. At least not for us. Maybe not for them, either, but most of 'em ain't gonna live as long as us."

Victor felt exposed, like someone was aiming a gun at the back of his head. It made him want to lash out in preemptive defense, or run somewhere he knew he'd be alone.

"So, like I asked before Rae decided to butt in - what made you hurt her?"

Of course he was gonna push that. "Felt like a flashback or somethin', a memory I didn't know was there. Wasn't like anything Xavier pulled out." He shrugged like that would ease the weight he felt in his shoulders.

"What kinda shit _is_ he pullin' out?"

"Seems like he's lookin' for specific things, wants me to feel remorse, but all I feel is numb. Like those are someone else's memories."

Logan tapped his fingers on his thigh. "So he's just… diggin' around, hopin' you'll react to it?"

"Sounds about right."

Logan growled. "So he's treatin' you like a normal person."

"Uh." Victor frowned. "Yeah, ain't that what he's _supposed_ to be doin'?"

The shorter feral rolled his eyes. "Either of us look like normal people?" He got up to pace. "We're ferals, you can't just ignore that and hope we'll play nice with others."

The confusion Victor felt must have been apparent on his face because Logan sighed.

"We ain't _like_ other people. We don't run on logic, on rational shit; if we don't feel it in our gut it may as well not exist. Doesn't mean we have to let it control us, but we can't just cut it out, either."

Something about the end of that sentence felt familiar, like he'd heard it before. It took him a moment to place it. "Rae said almost the same thing about what drove me to kill. Said it was a cancer that needed to be cut out."

"How the hell did she come so close to truth while still bein' a mile away?"

The question sounded rhetorical so Victor didn't answer it. "Meanin' what?"

"Can't completely cut out the bloodlust without cuttin' out what makes us what we are."

Victor thought he felt a headache forming behind his eyes. "Then what's the _point?"_

"It's kinda like trainin' a dog: you gotta redirect the animal instinct because that ain't goin' nowhere. Give it somethin' else to focus on until you're in control again."

Logan sat down again. "Fuckin' explains why all the shit Chuck tried on me didn't work, just didn't pick up on it 'til he tried it on someone else."

Victor thought maybe he should be pissed. Instead he just felt tired and guilty, like his bones were heavier than they should be. "Why are you helpin' me when you've always wanted me dead?"

"Because Rae was right about somethin' else: if I just let them fuck you up without steppin' in, I'm a fuckin' hypocrite." Logan chuckled. "An' if you go native again, I'll be there to put you down."

"Ain't no one else who could do it." That was the closest he'd come to saying thank you, and he knew Logan understood that.

Silence fell for several long minutes, until Logan broke it. "You're gonna need Rae's help."

"She's already done enough and paid the price for it." Victor shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "She don't need to get dragged in further."

Logan snorted. "You say that like she'd give you a choice. She ain't gonna let you do this alone. Might as well accept that like you accept the theory of gravity. 'Cause she's just as inevitable."

He gestured at the closed bedroom door. "Go sit with her until she wakes up. Get used to bein' close to her, we can figure the rest of it out later."

* * *

The sun was well over the horizon when Rae stirred. Her entire body hurt the way it usually did the day after a fight of some kind; she was used to that happening after a mission, not after an assault in her civilian life.

She stretched carefully, jerking in surprise when her hand touched something warm and solid at the side of the bed.

"Hey." Victor turned his head to look at her where he sat on the floor with his back against the bed. He'd gotten his hair under control and put it in a messy bun.

"Hey," she replied. Before she could stop herself she was touching his shoulder, just to be sure he was real and not a hallucination. She'd had the nightmare again of Logan successfully killing him.

He reached up to cover her hand with his, fingers loosely circling her wrist. "Sorry."

She scooted a little closer when he turned his body towards her, lying on her side. "I'm fine, Victor. And I don't think I'm the one who needs to be worried about right now."

"I don't get you."

"You don't have to, I'll just keep being me." She could see the confusion in his eyes. "I know enough about ferals to know that you need someone who has your back. I wanna be that person."

"Gonna step in a lotta shit." He hadn't let go of her wrist; she turned her hand so she could twine her fingers with his.

"Lucky for you I was raised on a farm."

That startled a laugh out of him. His free hand lifted to touch her cheek, brushing back some of her hair that had come loose from her braid. The swelling around her eye had gone down but the bruising had spread further and she could feel the ache of it down to her jaw.

"I'm surprised you and Logan made it through the night intact."

"I think he's annoyed with me and pissed at Xavier for fuckin' things up in my head."

It made sense when she thought about it, and it bothered her that she hadn't figured it out herself.

"Ain't your fault."

Rae looked up, startled. "You telepathic now?"

Victor laughed softly. "Scent changed. Almost as good as telepathy for figurin' out someone's mood."

"That's not fair," she said, not entirely serious.

"Says the girl who can make people do shit with her pheromones."

She jerked away from him, wincing when the abrupt movement made her heart beat faster, her face throbbing painfully. "I wasn't doing that back in the lounge, I swe-"

"Hey." He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. "That never crossed my mind."

Rae blinked back tears.

"Some asshole blamed you for what they decided to do on their own, didn't they?"

She nodded, regretting the movement when it made her head hurt worse. "It's happened a few times," she confessed, eyes downcast. "Worst was a guy in undergrad. He tried to claim it was my fault he wanted to…" She shuddered, couldn't get the words out.

"Goddammit." Victor got to his feet only to sit down next to her. His heavy weight made her tip over but he caught her, one hand on her bicep. "No wonder you freaked out when I didn't stop at first."

"That wasn't the same, it didn't _feel_ the same." She pulled his hand down and felt him stiffen for a moment when she scooted closer and pulled his arm around her. "I didn't feel as unsafe."

He made a disagreeing sort of sound but relaxed anyway, turning his head to bump his nose against her temple. After the way he'd reacted when she called attention to him purring she felt reluctant to say anything about the catlike gesture, so she let it be.

"So Logan thinks Xavier was wrong about how to help you?"

"Yeah. Somethin' about us bein' different, needin' a different approach. You mighta been right about physical triggers but I can't figure out how the fuck to work with that."

Rae reached for his free hand, deadly claws and all, just to keep touching him. "We'll figure it out together." His fingers twitched against hers but he didn't pull away. "Can I ask you something?"

"Might not answer, but go ahead."

She paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to say it, at least until she realized he'd prefer blunt honesty.

"You sought out Logan hoping he'd kill you. Not just months ago, but last night, too."

Victor sighed. "Yeah."

"Will you promise me that you'll trust that we can get through this, without you trying suicide by Wolverine again? "

She felt him tense again, almost regretted asking, but it had to be asked.

"Yeah, I can promise that."

"Thank you." She reached for his sleeve then, pushing it up so she could get at the tracking bracelet she'd put on him months ago. Her fingers found the slight indentations on the outside, pressed for a second until the bracelet beeped and then clicked open.

"I thought only Xavier or the doc could turn it off."

Rae shoved it in her pocket and then leaned into him again. "I added my biometric signature when Hank gave it to me." She shook her head. "I wasn't okay with putting it on you in the first place if we weren't going to tell you the truth about any of it."

"You trust me enough to turn it off." It wasn't a question, the words so soft she barely understood them.

"Trust has to start somewhere. I'm gonna catch fifty kinds of hell for doing it but I really couldn't care less right now." She turned her head, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin.

Startled amber eyes stared at her for a long moment, and she remembered that people never touched him with affection. She couldn't imagine what that was like.

"You can tell me to not do things like that if it bothers you."

A fine tremor ran through him, eyes closing for a second before he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Nah. I don't mind gettin' used to that."


	11. Chapter 11

Victor didn't even bother to stop himself from pacing outside the medbay as he waited for Rae, letting his restless animal move so he had space to think. He felt like the train had jumped the track the moment she'd removed his tracking bracelet, changing the narrative in a way that left an uneasy feeling in his gut.

Because his first instinct when she'd unshackled him hadn't been to bolt.

He had a choice now, freedom was being offered, but he found the price - her trust - didn't chafe the way he expected.

He wanted to prove he was better than who he used to be, and not just for her. He wanted to prove it to _himself_ , to know he could do it, that he didn't have to be controlled by something. That he wasn't just a mindless animal.

But all of that didn't stop him from feeling like his skin was crawling, every atom screaming he wasn't protected anymore. Because he knew, sure as breathing, Xavier wasn't going to just accept Rae's decision without a fight, and Victor didn't know what the consequences would be or how they were going to affect her. She'd deliberately gone against her family, for _him,_ and he wasn't sure he could ever repay her for that.

And it was something he couldn't protect her from, couldn't defend her against because he had no good will built up with the X-Men. How many times had he nearly killed one or more of them? How many times had they witnessed the aftermath of his violence, whether he could remember that or not?

His feral instincts had no target that wouldn't bring her more hurt. And he fucking hated that, felt more choked by that than he had with the tracking bracelet.

The soft hiss of the elevator interrupted his brooding. Rae emerged, freshly showered and looking more alert than she had before, though she was moving a little stiffly. Her hair was in double French braids and she wasn't wearing a hoodie for once, her black leggings paired with a deep green henley, the sleeves long enough to almost completely hide her hands.

"You do somethin' with the bruise?" he asked, gesturing to his own face.

She nodded, moving right into his personal space like she belonged there. Which she did. "Yeah, used some makeup to cover it. Seeing it just pisses me off."

He reached out to tug the end of one of her braids, fingers playing with the silver charms attached to the leather strips she'd bound them with. "'Least you're not barefoot for once."

Rae laughed softly. "I usually stop once it snows, but I like being able to feel the ground under my feet. At least moccasins don't take that away too much." The soft black leather had beadwork flowers across the instep, vines running up the few inches covering her ankles.

"Sorry I kept you waiting."

Victor shrugged. "You didn't even need t'be here for this, I don't mind." _I don't wanna face any of this alone,_ he didn't add.

She replied by hooking her fingers in the neck of his t-shirt to tug his face down to hers, and for the first time, he wasn't the one initiating a kiss. It was chaste, just a press of her mouth against his, but for some reason it was almost as arousing as the night before, just in a different way. It felt like a promise.

He couldn't help returning her smile when she let him go.

"C'mon, let's see what Hank has to say about our brains."

They found the doctor at the back of the medbay, muttering to himself as he stared intently at a bank of screens, fingers typing blindly.

"You're a little late, Creed."

"He was waiting for me," Rae replied.

Hank turned and gave her a smile that faded into a frown, likely because Rae was standing so close to Victor he could feel her body heat without actually touching.

"Oh. Well." Hank blinked and then nodded. "Would you mind, Victor, if I did Rae's assessment first?"

Victor shrugged. "Nah, she's more important."

Rae gave him a little half smile and boosted herself up on the diagnostic bed Hank gestured her towards, laying down once she was settled. A curved arm slid up from beneath the bed at Hank's input, snapping into place above her head.

The machine hummed and clicked, the scanning arm pulsing blue as it slowly traveled the length of Rae's body, down and then back up.

Hank made a pleased sound at the results on his monitor. "No sign of hemorrhaging in the brain or abdominal cavity, no broken ribs, same as yesterday. The contusions on your face have spread but that's to be expected."

Victor didn't audibly sigh but he did feel his shoulders loosen. He'd been alive long enough and inflicted enough damage to be able to tell when someone was seriously wounded; he hadn't seen anything to indicate she was worse off than he thought, but having confirmation that she was fine gave him a sense of relief he hadn't anticipated.

The arm slid back down and Rae sat up slowly.

"Are you experiencing stiffness?"

"A little, my neck was tight when I woke up. I did some stretching when I got out of the shower and it helped some."

"Excellent. We'll check again in a week just to make sure everything is as it should be. Keep up your yoga but take it easy with any cardio or training with the team for a bit, and make sure you've got a spotter for weight lifting. Come to me immediately if anything changes for the worse."

Rae nodded. "Got it, Doc."

Hank turned back to his monitors, typing something in to the keyboard that switched the view from Rae's scan to one familiar to Victor: his own brain.

"In previous scans," Hank began, "there wasn't much to look at, not much was changing aside from some healing. And honestly, that's stopped at this point, with no further alteration."

Rae stayed on the bed, kicking her feet a little. "So his healing factor still hasn't reverted him to pre-injury?"

"We knew it was a possibility, and something could always change without warning, but we seem to be out of the danger zone in that regard." Hank tapped a key to pull up another page of data. "I did, however, notice something intriguing during his scan yesterday."

Victor tensed, the dread from before hitting his gut. He didn't realize he'd moved closer to Rae, unconsciously seeking comfort, until he felt her press her hand against his lower back in reassurance. "What'd you see?" he asked, expecting the worst.

"In addition to taking scans of the physical brain structure, I've also been monitoring the levels of various hormones, the ones most critical to feral mutations. You were in the middle of being scanned when Kurt brought Rae here yesterday, which coincided with a massive spike of epinephrine and norepinephrine along with cortisol, as is typical of fight-or-flight."

The doctor looked directly at him. "I didn't notice it at the time due to Rae's condition. You were undergoing a stress response but you didn't act on it as I would have expected of you, given your… history."

"Hank, he knows. At least some of it." Now Rae was the one tensing. She gave Victor a startled look when he put his hand on her knee.

Hank was eyeing them askance as well, gaze solidly on how Victor was touching her and which hand he'd used.

"You removed his tracking bracelet." The expected anger wasn't there, just something like resignation, like he'd expected it. "You added your biometrics after I gave it to you?"

Rae nodded, then put her hand over Victor's and looked at him. "You okay if I explain this?"

"Gonna come out sooner or later."

She held his gaze for a long beat before she turned back to Hank.

"Last night when he was taking care of me he had what amounted to a flashback. We were…" She hesitated, embarrassment coloring her scent.

"Fuck it." Victor squeezed her knee. "We were kissing, it got a little rough, and suddenly I remembered some shit. Got in a tussle with Logan, remembered some more. Just little bits and pieces, nothin'... solid, nothin' I can hold onto."

Hank blinked, momentarily nonplussed. He shook his head. "There is a remarkable ability of the _homo sapien_ brain to suppress memory until triggered by a similar event, a sight or smell or tactile sensation. Neuroplasticity allows new connections to form, bypassing damaged sectors to access old information."

He nodded then. "Well, that makes it remarkably less awkward now that we can dispense with obfuscation. And of course it changes how we must approach further therapy and memory recovery."

"You're not angry?" Rae asked, her voice small and quiet.

"I've trusted your judgment in the past and you've never given me a reason to regret that decision. If you believe this is what's necessary I will lend the weight of my authority along with the evidence I've gathered." He gestured to the results of the scan. "Nonetheless, I doubt the others will accept this turn of events with the same pragmatism."

Rae sighed. "Can't make them avoid me more than they already are."

"Means they can avoid _me,"_ Victor said quietly.

"Can you blame them for the latter?" Hank asked, eyebrow raised. "We've encountered you enough times in the past to know what you're capable of, the path of blood and death you left for us on your journey here remains vivid in our memories. Forgetting that isn't so easy, let alone forgiving."

Victor chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, ain't sayin' I deserve any better. But it pisses me off that they're treatin' _her_ like a pariah for givin' a shit about me."

"Victor-"

He cut Rae's protest off, not unkindly. "Nah, I earned this, I put myself here. But I ain't gonna be okay with what it's doin' to you."

She smelled like tears but none fell, her eyes searching his for some kind of answer. She must have found it because she nodded. "Okay."

Hank cleared his throat. "I'd like to continue with the weekly scans, Victor, if you are amenable. Healing factors can be unpredictable and I would be remiss if I didn't take that into account."

Victor nodded. "Yeah, I'm good with that."

"Good." Hank smelled pleased. "And I will attend your next session with Xavier, if you'd like. I suspect he will not be thrilled with recent developments."

"So long as Rae's there, I'm fine with it."

She nodded. "You know I'll be anywhere you want me."

Victor smirked. "Poor choice of words, babe."

Rae went pink, eyes darting to Hank, who was now busying himself with something on his monitors as if nothing untoward had been said.

"I will see you Thursday afternoon, then," he said.

Victor let himself be dragged out by Rae.

"I can't take you anywhere, I swear," she said, still blushing by the time they got to the elevator, but she was also laughing.

She sobered once they were back on their floor. "I meant what I said, about being where you need me," she said, folding hers legs up as she sat on the couch in their lounge. "If you want that, I mean."

Victor flopped down beside her. "Why wouldn't I?"

Rae shrugged. "Because I know how vulnerable telepathy can make you. I don't want you to feel like you can't work through the ugly shit if you're worried I'll get scared."

Something in his chest ached. "Babe," he said, sitting up so he was closer to her. "You already got a private show o' my 'ugly shit' and got the wounds to show for it. Can't figure out why the hell that ain't made you run."

She laughed softly. "Because I'm a walking cliché with a soft spot for a good redemption story?" She leaned into him when he traced his fingers along her jaw, carefully avoiding the bruises. "You promised me you'd try and you're sticking to that. I promised _myself_ I'd see this through, because you believed me when I said you could do this."

Her fingers wrapped around his wrist when he cupped the side of her neck. He could feel and hear her heartbeat pick up a little in response.

She jerked when her watch beeped. "Shit, of course I forgot I have an online exam," she said, reading the alert.

Victor snorted. "Ain't like you didn't have a bunch of shit goin' on," he replied, using his fingers to tip her face up so he could nip her bottom lip.

Rae hummed and let him kiss her, slow and steady until her hand pressed against his chest. "Nice distraction-"

"Oh, just 'nice'?"

"You are entirely too arrogant for your own good." She freed herself, smelling reluctant as she got to her feet. "The damn thing is due by 2 p.m. and I need to go over my notes, much as I'd love to ignore it in favor of something more fun."

He wanted her to stay, wanted to keep her there where he could touch her and smell her and not let go of the one part of his life that didn't feel out of his control.

Instead he said, "Good luck."

The smile she gave him more than made up for it, as did the quick kiss against his temple. "Shouldn't be more than a couple hours, then I'm all yours."

He could have taken advantage of that opening, but maybe he really did need some time to clear his own head, and having her there would be, well… Distracting.

* * *

 _~Rae.~_

The voice was out of place in the dream she was having, where she was laying in a forest clearing, staring up at the sun peeking through the tree canopy, while a ginger tabby purred contentedly against her side.

 _~Rae!~_

Her eyes snapped open at Xavier's stern tone in her head. It took her a few moments to answer as struggled to wake up from her nap.

 _~I'm here, Charles.~_

 _~Please come to my office immediately.~_

The telepathic connection snapped shut, hard enough she felt a little dizzy, a sharp ache pulsing in her temple.

She didn't even care that Victor just opened her door without knocking while she tried to get her bearings.

"You okay?"

Rae nodded, unfolding her legs and pushing her blanket aside from where she'd been curled up in the oversized armchair in her room. "Yeah. I guess you got a message from Xavier, too?"

Victor snorted. "Felt like I got scolded an' all he did was tell me to come to his office."

Despite his flippant tone, she could read his body language, the anxiety that made him fidget a little while she got to her feet and followed him out the door.

"Guess we get to have this showdown a day early," he said, matching her stride.

"Just wondering what the hell set him off," she replied, trying to ignore a sudden wave of anxious nausea and the urge to flee in the opposite direction. "Unless Hank told him."

"I did not, in fact," replied the mutant in question, meeting them at the top of the stairs on the main level. "I was taking the time to gather my own thoughts on how best to approach this… predicament."

"What a nice word for this clusterfuck," Rae muttered, following her mentor down the hallway with Victor at her side.

The trio found Logan sprawled in a chair outside Xavier's office, looking disgruntled as usual but a little more put together than he'd been a couple nights before.

"See you kids got a headache, too," he said, rising as they approached.

"Y'know I'm older than you," Victor said.

"Can we not do this, please?" Rae heard her own voice shaking and dug her nails into her palms.

Victor reached for her, fingers circling her wrist, and her heartbeat sped up for a second before it slowed and leveled out along with her breathing. How the hell that worked, she wasn't sure, but she was grateful for the comfort.

"It's good to see you inside, Logan," Hank said. "Though I confess I'm surprised that Charles asked you to join us for this meeting."

Logan shrugged. "Gonna miss Judge Judy if we don't get this shit over with."

Hank laughed softly and nodded. "Let's get started, then," he replied, opening the door for the others.

Xavier was behind his desk as expected, but Rae was surprised to find Scott Summers leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Scott, what're you-"

"Why is Victor no longer wearing the tracking bracelet?" Xavier cut Rae off, his voice level but icy.

She took a shaky breath and stepped forward, tugging her arm away from Victor, only to get cut off by Logan growling.

"Nah, you don't get to put her on the spot for this. You know her, you know how she operates, but you expected her to do somethin' different?"

"I expected her to discuss it with me first," Xavier replied. "I thought she was smarter than that."

Every doubt Rae had had over the last few months, all the choices she made both good and bad, crowded for attention in her mind, made the room spin a little as she struggled to answer, to defend herself.

But Logan wasn't done, not by a long shot. He bulled forward, angling his body so that Rae was slightly behind him. "Why should she take the blame when you're the one who decided to keep him around, to help him when he showed up with bad intentions?

"You put a girl in charge of _him_ and stepped back except to do your damnedest to fuck it all up anyway with the way you been muckin' around in his head."

Hank inhaled sharply. "Logan-"

"The only reason I asked you to be here, Logan," Xavier interjected with ill-concealed wrath, "is because the last location where the tracker was active was the boathouse. I'd hoped you'd be able to shed some light on what exactly was going on, and while I appreciate your candor, you may want to choose your words carefully."

Logan bared his teeth, less mirth and more a display of no fucks given. "You want some light? The way you been handlin' Vic is the worst you could have chosen. Didn't figure it out until the other night. You're good with the psychic shit but you're still treatin' him, treatin' _us,_ like we're normal mutants."

Rae swallowed bile and stepped back again, bumped into Victor behind her and felt his hands grip her biceps to steady her. This was not the way she'd expected things to go, not even when she was catastrophizing and coming up with the worst case scenarios.

"And yet he's had no further outbursts of violence-"

"Chuck, for an Omega-level telepath, you can't see the forest for the goddamned trees sometimes."

"You are _dangerously_ close to a line you may not want to cross, Logan." There was something like an echo to Xavier's voice, some hint of barely-concealed fury that was making him lose his usual tight control on his telepathy. "Tread carefully."

Logan just breathed for a few seconds and then jerked a thumb at Victor, then his own chest. "We're ferals. What works for everyone else ain't gonna work for us. It's why you never had much luck unscramblin' my memories an' why Vic flipped his shit the other night over somethin' he shouldn't have."

"And what exactly was it that set him off?"

"He was taking care of me." It took Rae a minute to realize she'd spoken, and for a moment everyone else seemed as startled as she was, all eyes turning to her.

She cleared her throat and made her voice stronger. "He was making sure what happened to me in the city wasn't worse than we thought, helping me ride out a couple panic attacks. Long story short, physical memory kicked in for him and triggered some memories. It wasn't his fault-"

"And yet you removed the tracking bracelet."

"The tracking bracelet _you_ made me put on him in the first place. You left me alone to handle a situation no one else wanted to handle." Rae finally stepped back up, shoulder-to-shoulder with Logan. "You never asked me if I felt he was stable, you just expected me to protect you during your sessions with him and keep him out of your hair otherwise."

"You volunteered."

"Yeah, I did."

Hank cleared his throat before Xavier could respond. "Before we go any further with this train of thought, I would like to offer Victor's brain scans as proof that this isn't a temporary change."

He stepped forward, placing a metal disk on the desk. A holographic representation of Victor's brain flickered on, hovering above it. "Nothing in the physical structure of his brain has changed since he regained consciousness, and as we have seen with Logan and his healing factor, if the organ has not reverted after several months, the risk of that is reduced to almost nil."

His claws tapped on the desk next to the hologram. "And beyond that, as I have already discussed with Rae and Victor, he was being scanned when Kurt brought her back to the mansion, which allowed me to see that Victor was undergoing a stress response but did not react with violence or rage as I would have expected in the past."

"So ultimately, he's not the man he used to be, and that's not going to change."

Rae startled at Scott's voice, finally joining the conversation.

"I am willing to make that assessment and stand behind it, yes," Hank replied.

Xavier narrowed his eyes, looking between two of his oldest students. "What are you getting at, Scott?"

"Logan came to me this morning, which… let's just say I wasn't expecting it, given our history, but I was even more shocked that he made a case for needing to change the focus on Victor's rehabilitation."

Scott pushed away from the wall and came closer. "How many former villains have we given a second chance to? Emma, Erik, Rogue… We took them in and gave them a place to learn a better way and earn the right to call themselves heroes."

Rae breathed in sharply. "Scott, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"The plan was always that Victor wouldn't go free," Xavier protested.

"Plans change, Charles," Scott said mildly. "You taught me that. And as the leader of the X-Men, it's my prerogative to offer Victor a place on the team if he wants it."

"You're the leader, yes, but I founded the X-Men on a very specific principle-"

"The first team, maybe, but the second team you sent to die in place of the first with Krakoa," Logan spat.

" _Enough!"_

Rae rocked back on her heels, wincing at a sudden, sharp pain in her head. She saw everyone but Xavier himself recoil.

"That was beneath you, Charles," Hank said, his voice low and bordering on a growl. Slowly he rose to his full height, the psychic blast having caused an animalistic reaction of crouching to protect himself and possibly attack.

Rae knew him well enough to see the shame he felt in losing his carefully cultivated self control and the hurt that a friend had triggered it.

Scott spoke into the silence. "You left too many variables, Charles. I'm simply trying to find the best path through the chaos."

Rae finally moved, having gone still in hope that the enraged telepath in the room wouldn't do more than give them all a momentary headache. She turned and found the feral in question looking dumbfounded. "Victor?"

He blinked and shook himself, letting out a long breath before he nodded. "I'm okay," he replied before addressing Scott. "You sure about this?"

Scott laughed. "I don't know that we'll ever be friends, and this isn't going to give you free rein, you'll be on probation for a while. But the offer is open."

Victor nodded again. "Not that I ain't grateful, but can I take a day or two?"

"I expected it." Scott nodded and turned back to Xavier. "If your vision of mutant solidarity doesn't include situations like this, maybe it's time for a reassessment."

"And on that note, perhaps we should break up this little meeting so that tempers may calm down," Hank piped up, eyeing Xavier warily.

Rae swallowed hard and nodded, grabbing Victor's hand as she backed out of the office, followed by Logan.

The shorter feral laughed and shook his head when he saw how she was touching Victor. "Uh-uh, you've been babysittin' this asshole long enough, go find Jubilee and Megan and do somethin' else."

"What about -?"

"He can come chase squirrels in the woods or somethin', I don't give a shit." Logan gave her a little nudge back down the hallway. "Don't worry about it."

Rae looked up at Victor, who shrugged.

"He's right, much as I hate to say it. And after that mess it'll be nice to get outside."

"Okay." Rae only felt marginally self-conscious when she leaned up and kissed his chin, but she knew everything was okay when he dipped his head and bumped his nose against hers. "Okay," she said again, "I'll see you later, then."

To Logan, she said, "Take care of him."

"Jubes is expectin' you, with orders to report back," Logan warned, already walking the other direction with Victor following.

Rae let out a shaky breath and prepared to go find her friends, at least until Scott emerged from Xavier's office alone.

"Hey, I was hoping you weren't gone," he said.

"I don't know how to thank you, Scott, I just… I don't really understand what happened back there."

He laughed softly. "Don't thank me, Rae, I let you down as your leader and as your friend. You should have never been left to handle this by yourself, we should have made sure you were okay, given you more support."

Rse nodded slowly. "Logan ripped you a new one, didn't he?" she asked.

"That's a polite way of putting it. He was more worried about you than he was about Victor, though there was this weird protectiveness towards him, or maybe possessiveness, I've never understood ferals."

"But you trusted Logan's word that Victor was better."

"I respect Logan, much as I don't always make that obvious, and I'd like to think that's mutual." Scott shrugged. "And like I told Victor, this isn't gonna be quick or easy, but he deserves the chance to sink or swim."

Rae didn't stop herself from hugging him, and it felt like coming home when he hugged her back. "Whether or not you deserve it, _thank you."_

Scott held her at arm's length after a moment. "I need to ask, though, is there something going on between you and Victor?"

She bit her lip, hesitating before nodding. "I don't know what it is, but I'm not afraid of it."

Despite the fact his eyes were hidden by his ruby quartz lenses, she knew he was searching her face. Finally, he nodded back.

"Just be careful. And my door is always open, I'm not ignoring this anymore."

"Understood, boss."


	12. Chapter 12

Rae followed the sound pop music and bickering to the mansion's huge kitchen, where she found Jubilee and Megan Gwynn, aka Pixie, already making a mess. Jubilee was attempting to sing along to the radio but mostly just sounded like an amorous cat in an alleyway.

"Please make her stop," Megan whined as soon as she saw Rae.

"What the hell makes you think she'll listen to me when even Logan doesn't scare her?" Rae laughed, waving her hand in front of her face to dispel a cloud of flour. "She's always been immune to anything I could do."

"Fair enough." Megan winced at a particularly sharp note. "There's another apron around here somewhere, she decided we're making Christmas cookies even though Thanksgiving is next week."

"Bitch it is _never_ too early for Christmas cookies, not even in July, how _dare_ you," Jubilee shot back, throwing a spatula that Megan swatted out of the air with one of her wings before it could hit her in the face.

Rae shook her head in amusement. "Why do we have an apron that says _Red Hot Grandpa_ on it?" she asked, liberating it from under a half-spilled bag of sugar. She'd worried things would be awkward with her friends but they were pulling her in just like they always did.

"Someone got that as a joke for Logan," Jubilee replied, settling her ever-present pink sunglasses more firmly in her hair.

"And by 'someone' she absolutely means her," Megan said in a stage whisper.

"Lies!" Jubilee cried, then turned to Rae and gestured imperiously. "You're in charge of the cookie cutters and swapping pans in and out of the oven."

"Aye aye, Captain." Rae finished putting on the apron and headed for the cabinet that held the baking sheets. "What temp on the oven?"

"375," Megan said, consulting the cookbook open on the counter. "Grab the sprinkles, would you? Oh, and the food coloring, loathe as I am to allow her anywhere near permanent dye."

"I am _right here,_ listening to you talking shit about me like I'm deaf."

"Well, you're certainly not mute." Illyana Rasputin swanned into the kitchen looking like an explosion at the Hot Topic factory. "More's the pity."

"I hate you all," Jubilee grumbled.

"We love you, too." Rae gave her a peck on the cheek on her way past, setting the box of food dye on the counter beside Megan. "How's things in Limbo, Yana?"

The blonde Russian shrugged as she rooted through the refrigerator. "Much the same as always, I'm afraid." She pulled out a bottle of water and gave Rae a pointed look. "Not nearly as interesting as what you've been up to."

"I've been up to nothing," Rae replied, proud when she kept herself from blushing. "Aside from getting beaten on by some troglodytes in the city, but when is that ever anything but shitty?"

Illyana rolled her eyes. "Be that way if you want." She swanned back out.

"What's up her demony ass?" Megan asked.

"I mean, I could tell you." Jubilee wasn't very good at hiding a smirk. "But then I'd have to kill you."

Megan shared a look with Rae, who shrugged. "I'm not feeding her ego more than I have to."

"Point." Megan finished putting all the other ingredients on the big island in the middle of the kitchen. "Alright, we're doing basic sugar cookies, all the fancy shit will be icing and sprinkles once they're cooled."

Rse settled in next to her to help measure, and it was the most normal she'd felt in months. Hell, probably since she'd come home from Hoonah back in July before everything went to hell in a handbasket. But now here she was, singing along to Lady Gaga and dancing a little and making a huge mess in the kitchen like everything was fine.

She only worried a little bit about leaving Victor to Logan's tender mercies. Her friend and mentor had done what felt like a 180 over his former nemesis; she still had no idea why Logan hadn't just killed him when he got a second chance at it, out there in the woods where no one could have stopped him. Whatever stayed his hand was probably some weird feral thing she'd never understand beyond a surface level. And she was pretty sure neither of them would tell her if she asked.

But she had to trust him, trust _both_ of them, to (mostly) behave. At least they both had healing factors. And Logan probably had a better grasp on what Victor needed if he was going to accept Scott's invitation.

 _That_ still felt like a dream. She'd been 100% behind Xavier and his plan of rehabilitation followed by incarceration, because it had seemed the most viable and just solution back when everything had started. Rae didn't want to think that her own changing feelings towards Victor were clouding her judgment and biasing her in his favor, but Scott was right: they _had_ given other former villains a chance to turn over a new leaf. And some of Victor's crimes paled in comparison to Erik's, yet Charles seemed ever-ready to forgive and forget when it came to the man who'd been his dearest friend once upon a time.

Rae hated the thought that had started to creep into her mind: what if Charles had never intended to truly help Victor? What if he meant to torment Victor in order to bring about a sea change, using his memories of his misdeeds as a catalyst? How was that not cruel and unusual punishment when it seemed to do nothing but hurt Victor?

She didn't want to think that Charles was capable of that. But he was an Omega-level telepath and she couldn't even begin to see the world and the people in it as he did. Were there ever times he felt above them all, better than everyone else - human and mutant alike - because he could read (and manipulate) anyone's mind with ease?

A shrieked, " _KATYA!"_ jolted her out of her spiraling thoughts. Someone pelted down the main staircase into the foyer outside the kitchen.

"Kitty's home?" Rae asked, looking at Jubilee's smirk. "Oh, _that's_ what Yana was pissy about?"

"Why was she mad if Kitty's home?" Megan asked, sliding her bowl full of dough to Rae.

"Who knows with Yana?" Rae shrugged. "You know how too much time in Limbo makes her cranky."

There was more thumping out in the hallway and then Illyana entered the kitchen with Kitty Pryde riding piggyback. The Jewish woman was flushed, either from affection or the cold outside, it was hard to tell.

"Rae!" Kitty launched herself off Illyana's back into Rae's arms, nearly bowling her over.

"You cut your hair?" Rae asked, catching her and hugging her tightly. "I like it, it suits you."

"I was worried people wouldn't like it." Rae caught Kitty's worried little glance at the blonde Russian, but her expression was only one of love. Kitty probably could have shaved her head and Illyana wouldn't have cared.

"We weren't expecting you home so soon," Jubilee said as she accepted a hug.

Kitty laughed. "Oh don't lie, Jujube, you were Skyping me last night while I bought my ticket home." She hugged Megan and then turned to all of them. "I finished my exams early and wanted to see everyone, then I'll be going back to see Mom for Hanukkah with Yana next week."

"Ooh, the big Take the Girlfriend Home holiday," Rae teased. "Lucky for you they've already met."

Illyana pulled a face. "Katya is important and I want to make a good impression."

"Does that include toning down the goth thing?" Rachel Summers asked as she poked her head in.

"Hey Kitty, you wanna make cookies?" Jubilee cut in, heading off whatever retort Illyana was coming up with.

Kitty kissed her girlfriend on the cheek and took her coat off, throwing it over the back of a chair. "Hell yes, as long as we've got the makings for snickerdoodles, I'm in."

And just like that, Rae felt like things might be okay.

* * *

Maybe it was an insane thought, but Victor felt like the air outside tasted different when he and Logan stepped out onto the back veranda.

Snow covered the grounds, muting everything except the sound of their footfalls, neither predator feeling the need to be silent at the moment.

"You really need time to think about this?" Logan asked as they headed into the woods.

Victor snorted. "Wasn't lyin', if that's what you mean." He rolled his shoulders, stretching. "You get what I'm bein' asked. What it means."

Logan just grunted because yeah, he got it. It wasn't something to just say 'yes' to without thinking, without weighing the consequences and just how much shit he was going to have to wade through if he accepted Scott's offer.

And even that, standing there in Xavier's office across from Summers, had knocked some shit loose. Nothing specific, jumbled flashes of past fights without context, just enough to make him swallow his immediate response of "What the fuck is wrong with you that you'd ask me to join the X-Men?"

He was pretty sure that wouldn't go over well with anyone in that room, and he'd already seen Xavier's temper pop off. No sense in poking that bear any more than he had to, any more than he seemed to do just by _existing,_ for fuck's sake. His head still smarted from the psychic blow and it hadn't even been directed specifically at him.

"Wanna run?" Logan asked into the silence.

Victor's eyebrow went up but before he could answer, Logan took off, further into the woods. Victor huffed and gave chase, dropping onto all fours because it felt more natural and let him catch up quickly.

It became a game of who could make the least amount of noise while making the smallest impact on the world around them, coupled with a weird form of tag that involved tackling rather than just tapping the other person. Something only another feral would get, that hunting wasn't just about food or killing, you needed to keep your skills sharp.

Snow was knee-deep in places, disguising fallen trees and dips in the landscape. Victor watched Logan's body language, anticipating the difficult spots when he could, not knowing the lay of the land here quite as well.

Logan slowed and crouched to leap over a fallen trunk and Victor did the same, only to find himself facedown in the snow with Logan on his back. Victor swiped at him, catching flannel before Logan leapt free and was off again.

They ended up in a small clearing with a small-ish house that was little more than a glorified cabin.

"Groundskeeper's place, back when that was a thing," Logan explained off Victor's inquisitive look. "Got plumbing and a woodstove and electricity but it ain't used much."

Victor rolled his eyes. "You found me a place to live, runt? I'm touched."

Logan growled. "I don't give a fuck if you want it or not, just figured you might wanna get away from the school. Place is huge but it feels like a fuckin' clown car sometimes."

He wasn't wrong there. Even having an entire floor to share with one other person felt claustrophobic, though less so now that he'd been given freedom. As much as Rae didn't set off his intense need for solitude, he knew that sooner or later his animal was going to demand he get away from a place filled with people, because people were unpredictable and chaotic. And while he thrived on chaos, it was _his_ brand of chaos, soothing in its familiarity. His demons were plenty loud enough all on their own without adding a bunch of judgmental, wary non-ferals in the mix.

"Anyway, like I said. Rae's been your keeper long enough. You wanna get through this? Learn to be alone with the beast."

"Didn't you also tell me I was gonna need her and that she wasn't gonna leave me alone?"

"Jesus, you're like a five-year-old who remembers every goddamned detail." Logan shrugged. "Balance. Take the help when you need it, let it go when you don't. Don't make me Yoda this shit for you, Vic, I ain't in the mood."

"I mean, you're already short and ugly but I don't feel like haulin' your ass around in a backpack while you bitch about seagulls."

Logan squinted. "There aren't any seagulls in _Empire."_

"Do you even know what the fuck the internet is?"

The shorter feral rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm done with this conversation." He gestured at the cabin. "Take it or don't. I got better things to do than play house with you."

He left Victor standing in the clearing, staring at the cabin. It wasn't very big, maybe the size of his room in the mansion combined with Rae's, if you stuck them side-by-side instead of lengthwise, but the size didn't bother him.

Victor breathed in, let the cold air sting his lungs for a long moment before it occurred to him that this was the first time he'd been outside, alone, without the tracking bracelet.

The urge to map out the woods, to find the borders of his territory, was stronger than him, so he gave into it. Running with Logan had helped one part of his beast; this would satisfy another.

He stayed upright this time, settling into an easy lope that let him pay more attention to the world around him, take in the unique scents of these woods and the wildlife that made their homes there. Mostly just some squirrels and birds that hadn't finished preparing for the winter by hoarding or flying south; on the northern border of the estate he was a little surprised to find lynx tracks and a tree marked with both claws and urine. Seemed he wasn't the only one out of his element.

The grounds were about 1600 acres all told, easy enough for him to map the edges of by the time the sun started going down. He thought about going back to the mansion but it was easier to be outside, he felt less like everything didn't make sense when it was just him and the trees and what he was pretty sure was a cat who'd taken up residence somewhere inside the cabin. He left it alone, it could be dealt with later if necessary.

It was full dark before he caught a scent that shouldn't be there, and then he heard light footfalls that only made sense when he realized who it was and the fact she thought she was being sneaky.

"You gonna hide in the trees all night?" He asked from his perch on a stump in front of the cabin.

Rae stepped into view. "I guess it was pointless to try to sneak up on a feral."

Victor almost laughed at her disappointed pout. "Smelled you before I heard you, so you actually did a pretty good job. Logan tell you where I was?"

Rae frowned. "How'd you smell me? I was deliberately masking my scent."

"Wait, you can do that?"

Her frown changed to a smile. "Yeah, it's part of my mutation, but I guess it doesn't work on you."

Victor laughed softly. "I actually smelled the cookies on you, not your normal scent, so I guess it _does_ work on me." He reached for her, pulling her in so she stood between his legs.

She made a happy little sound when his hands settled on her hips. "Anyway, yeah, Logan texted me to let me know he'd left you all by your lonesome out here."

"Surprised the bastard even knows how to use a cellphone, way he acts sometimes."

"Oh, he pull the 'kids these days' shit on you, too?"

"He tried." Victor nearly purred when she kissed him, soft and unhurried. Her lips were cold and she tasted like cinnamon.

"You smell like pot, too."

Even in the dark he could see her blush, her scent full of embarrassment. "Shared a joint with Jubes and the girls."

"That why you taste like a snickerdoodle?"

"I may have spoiled my dinner," she replied with a soft laugh. "Did Logan seriously drag your ass out here like the world's crankiest real estate agent?" she asked, gesturing to the cabin.

Victor let her go and stood up. "Not a bad place."

"You gonna move out here?"

Something that wasn't quite anxiety hit his nose. "Was thinkin' about it. I've been up your ass long enough, you could use some breathin' room."

"You don't have to leave because you think I need that."

"Then maybe it's because I need it." He pulled her close again when she shivered, her breath fogging out. "I'm gonna need the space away if I'm gonna be joinin' the team."

Slowly, she nodded. "I can come help you get the place cleaned up and aired out." She looked up at him through her lashes. "If you want me to, I mean."

He touched her chin, making her look up at him clearly. "Stop actin' like you're imposing on me, girl, demure ain't your color."

Rae bit her bottom lip but she nodded. "Bad habit, got told I was underfoot too much as a kid."

Vic snorted. "That I can believe. If you're botherin' me, you'll know it. Until then?" He gave her a quick kiss. "Knock it off."

"Okay." She shoved her hands into her coat pockets.

"We can come back in the mornin', let's get you home 'fore you freeze to death."

Rae huffed out a laugh as she followed him back onto the trail. "I grew up in Alaska, asshole, I can handle a little snow and single digit temperatures." She moved almost as quietly as he did, her footsteps light and quick. "I've spent hours in a deer blind below zero with wind chill."

"Try doing it naked and we'll talk."

"That's fucking insane and you have a healing factor, that doesn't count."

After a few moments of silent walking she stopped and looked at him. "Have you really gone hunting naked?"

Victor shrugged. "From what I can remember, yeah." He followed when she started moving again. "Ain't always had money or a place to live or even clothes. Ended up in shitty places and I'm good at hunting."

"I'm sorry if that pulled up some ugly stuff."

Hr shrugged again. "Life is ugly, mine especially. Sittin' out here was familiar and I guess that made it easier to remember."

He reached out and took her hand, twining his fingers with hers. "Ain't a bad thing, remembering. Gotta take the bad if I want the good."

"I guess so."

She kept pace with him easily despite their height difference, not even breathing hard by the time the mansion loomed into sight.

"Got roped into decorating," Rae said, gesturing at the holly boughs and fairy lights around the back door. "Luckily Rachel showed up so none of us had to use a ladder."

"Now I'm imaginin' a bunch of girls high off their asses tryin' to put up a Christmas tree."

Rae laughed. "That's next week. Yana dragged Kitty off before Jubes could make us do more today."

"Y'know, you're cute when you get excited." Victor stopped her outside her door. "Usually it's when you get fired up about books an' word origins an' shit, but it's always cute."

"'Cute' isn't exactly a compliment for a woman."

"Yeah?" He grinned and backed her up against her door. "It better if I say you bein' all nerdy is a turn-on?"

"That's - I don't - what?" Her cheeks went pink as she looked up at him, her lower lip getting caught between her teeth.

He dipped his head to nudge her temple with his nose. "Babe, you get all flustered and excited and you talk fast, an' all I can think about is seein' what else makes you do it."

She opened her mouth to retort but he kissed her instead, growled when her words became a moan and her body curved towards his. He liked that she did it without hesitation, without thinking if it was okay or not, without worrying what his intentions were. She just wanted him.

When he pulled back it took a moment for her eyes to open. She smiled up at him.

"You did that on purpose."

"'Course I did." He kissed her nose. "Get some sleep, I get the feelin' the next few days are gonna be just as fucked up as this one."

"I wish I could say that won't happen but, well, yeah. Look where we live." Her face turned pensive. "So I guess this means you're leaning towards telling Scott yes?"

Victor shrugged. "Feels like the right thing to do. I know I'm gonna have to earn his trust, an' everyone else's, which is gonna fuckin' suck, but hey, when did I ever do things easy?"

He reached for her again when she opened her door. "I'm gonna bust my ass to prove you right."

Rae smiled and leaned up to kiss him quickly. "All I can ask is your best. We'll get started in the morning."


	13. Chapter 13

_This has slowly turned into me dealing with my anger that Marvel seems to have reverted Victor after AXIS. Still not sure where they're going with that, the last issue of Weapon X was kind of ambiguous.  
_

 _Either way, y'all finally get some sex. Fair warning, there's a bit of Dom/sub dynamics, because it just works with these two._

* * *

The weather had other plans, a blizzard hit Westchester hard and fast, leaving everyone snowed in for the foreseeable future. It made Thanksgiving a quiet affair, with some having families to visit and others having plans to be as far from the snow as possible. Having access to Shi'ar tech meant they didn't have to rely on regular transportation.

By the beginning of December, Rae had settled in with finishing off homemade Christmas presents and binge watching _The Expanse_ , something she'd put off while dealing with school.

Victor was… restless, was the only way she could describe it, since he'd decided to wait to move out to the cabin until the weather was better. He'd taken to spending most of his time outside anyway, which gave her some breathing room, and she couldn't deny that it was kind of nice to be alone for a bit.

They always seemed to come back together at the end of the day, though, regardless of what they were doing.

"You didn't have to stick around here, y'know."

Rae rolled her eyes and pulled her blanket back up from where it had dropped off her shoulder. She'd been waiting for him to bring up the fact she hadn't left for Thanksgiving break like everyone else.

"Would you please sit down instead of hovering in the doorway? I feel like you're looming."

Victor hesitated for half a second and then slouched over, flopping onto the couch beside her like the gigantic cat he was.

"Holidays have never been much of a big deal for my family, at least not on my mom's side, and this time of year, flying in isn't always possible so I go back in the summer instead." She set her phone down. "My dad's family is in Russia and I really don't know any of them that well, he wasn't around much and his parents never really showed any interest in his illegitimate daughter."

"You stickin' around for Christmas, too?"

Rae frowned. "Yes? I don't have plans to go anywhere."

"I know Kitty invited you to visit her parents with her and her girlfriend."

"That doesn't mean I have to go. I'm not gonna third wheel someone else's holiday." She squinted at him. "Are you trying to ask me if I'm staying around for you?"

When he just crossed his arms over his chest, she sighed.

"Look, I'm a grown-ass woman and I can choose where and who I spend Christmas with." She couldn't say why him pushing annoyed her, just that it did. "You can spend it however you want, but I'll be here."

"Just don't want you missin' out on family because o' me."

Rae snorted. "Do you think I had some kind of idyllic childhood?" She sat up and leaned against him, her head touching his shoulder. "I grew up in a fishing village in poverty around alcoholics and people without a lot of drive to ever leave. No one ever hit me or neglected me but I got bounced around a lot and didn't really have a good grasp on what family meant until I manifested as a mutant and happened to get noticed by Scott when he was up in Alaska."

Victor shifted to put his arm around her, his fingers petting her hair. She'd started picking up on how tactile he was, how easily he touched her while still being skittish about being on the receiving end. Even so, she curled up with her knees overlapping his thigh and didn't call him out when he stopped playing with her hair for a few seconds. She didn't begrudge the time he needed to readjust.

"Regardless, holidays have just… always felt awkward and forced to me. I don't mind exchanging gifts and eating my weight in cookies but family dinners and religious traditions are fucking weird."

That got a soft laugh from him. "People like to cling to tradition, makes 'em feel better when everything else is a shitshow."

"Mmmm, maybe they do." She sighed and made a pleased sound when he resumed playing with her hair, his claws scritching against her scalp.

She could have stayed like that for hours. She wasn't as touch starved as he was but physical affection was different when it wasn't strictly platonic. Maybe it was selfish of her. Maybe she didn't care.

Her phone chirping to announce a voicemail made her jerk. "Swear to god if that's Kitty singing the Dreidel Song again I'm gonna mail her a glitter bomb."

When she checked, though, it was a local number, specifically with the area code where she went to school. Her stomach dropped.

" _This message is for Raina Petrova. This is the Dean of Students from NYU, calling in regards to the incident on campus with the protestors at the end of fall semester._

" _While the school understands you were acting in self defense, we cannot tolerate the use of mutant abilities without consequence. As such, you have been released from any obligations as regards your masters degree, and we are willing to assist you in finding another institution where you may continue your education."_

* * *

Victor heard every word, felt anger rise up inside. Who the fuck were they to kick her out for being a mutant?

Rae sat frozen for a long moment and then shot up off the couch, almost vibrating with rage. Her phone hit the far wall, leaving a dent in the plaster before it clattered to the floor.

A string of blistering, rapid fire cursing in Russian came out of her mouth, her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white as she stalked out of the room.

He hesitated for a second before following her to her room where she'd slammed the door open. He closed it behind him.

She took a swing at him when he touched her shoulder. He caught her wrist and squeezed when she tried to pull back, a sound close to a growl coming from her as she struggled against his grip.

"They ain't worth your anger, frail."

She tried to pull her arm loose, her breathing shallow and ragged like the precursor to a panic attack but this was pure fury, every muscle tensed with the need to fight.

"I don't need to be treated like a child," she said, teeth gritted.

He couldn't think of anything else to say, knew the destructive power of what she was feeling right now. One of his methods of handling it wouldn't work for her, she couldn't heal whatever damage she would inflict on herself in the process.

The other method might make things worse but this was new territory for him. He still struggled to bring _himself_ back from the edge of violence; he didn't know the first thing about dragging someone else back from that very tempting cliff.

He reached for her other hand and held them both in one of his, using his free hand to grip the back of her neck and squeeze with more pressure than he had on previous occasions.

Her anger spiked and he felt her wrists flex, testing the strength of his hold. He thought maybe he'd chosen wrong, pushed past some boundary he hadn't been sure of.

Instead her eyes drifted shut and she shuddered, letting out a shaky breath, then her eyes opened again to look up at him like she was lost. The anger was still there, but now there was something else he knew how to handle.

The new little voice in his head piped up, the one telling him he needed to let her initiate, let her decide when and how far.

He shoved it down and dipped his head, using his grip on her neck to angle her for a kiss. He half expected her to fight and use her pheromones, to free herself and reject him for being selfish and taking advantage of her.

She pushed up into it, greedy for more as anger melted into arousal. The change was so quick he almost didn't trust it but she tugged one hand free so she could grab the neck of his shirt to keep him there, like she'd felt him hesitate.

She moaned low in her throat when his claws pressed against her neck and then sank into her hair. He tilted her head with no resistance, a shaky little gasp leaving her in response to him nipping just below her ear, under her jaw, his rough tongue licking along her pulse like maybe he could taste her that way.

He felt her sway, legs almost giving out as he set his teeth a little harder at the junction of neck and shoulder. Finally he released her other hand so he could boost her up with his arm under her ass. Her strong legs wrapped around his waist and suddenly he was glad he was wearing sweatpants instead of jeans because of the pressure on his cock trapped between them. He groaned and heard her respond in kind.

The feral in him wanted to lay her on her bed and finish what he'd started the night things changed between them, wanted to taste and tease until need drove out the anger and the hurt. He wanted to take her apart by inches, to see how far he could push before she became a writhing, whimpering mess begging for release, begging to be fucked.

The man thought she'd probably _let_ him, if only to distract herself. She'd stopped him before but there was no hesitation now, nothing in her scent but need and surrender, and it was that last one that pulled him up short.

He almost gave in when he walked backwards with her still clinging to him; he sat down in the oversized armchair and groaned when she rocked her hips against him, against his cock, her fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Rae." He had to get a grip on her hair to pull her away even as her hand got under his shirt, her nails scratching down his chest and dragging a growl from him. Her irises were drowned in black, her lips swollen from kissing, faint pink teeth marks already showing up on her neck.

"Victor, you don't -" She whined when his hand became a fist in her hair.

"Yeah, I do." He eased up a little and bumped his nose against hers. "'Cause you don't know how much I wanna pin you down and find out what you sound like when you come."

Her breath shuddered out, eyes halfway closed.

"But I don't wanna do it when half o' you is focused on somethin' else." He nipped her earlobe. "Ain't gonna share you with anything, _koshechka,_ not even your brain."

That seemed to bring her most of the way back. "You understood what I said earlier?" she asked, cheeks going pink.

He smirked at her. "Fluent in Russian, maybe half a dozen others, enough to get by in a few more. Don't think I've ever heard anyone say they were gonna jerk off a horse into a barrel so they could drown someone in it."

"Oh my _god,"_ she groaned, leaning forward to bury her face against his shoulder, but she was laughing. "I try to be careful around Piotr, I swear he acts like some Russian granny who gets scandalized at impropriety."

"Eh, learned most o' the bad stuff from little old Russian ladies." His hands settled on her hips. "There anyone at the college with a weak heart? Could go scare the shit out of 'em, if you don't wanna just strangle them."

He regretted it as soon as he said it but she just laughed again, her breath warm along his neck. "Victor, that _kills_ people."

"I did not know that."

Rae sat back up, her expression caught somewhere between confused and shocked. "You've seen _Llamas with Hats_ ," she said.

"Babe, I been kickin' around a while, ain't like I've never used the internet."

"Yeah, but _memes?"_ She bit her lip and shook her head, laughing softly. She didn't smell angry anymore, though arousal lingered, flaring briefly when his hands on her hips squeezed gently, claws mostly retracted now.

* * *

Rae leaned in and kissed him again, just because she wanted to, because she _could_. Her body still thrummed with the rush of endorphins she'd gotten from being grabbed and restrained, from hearing what he wanted to do to her. What she'd dreamt about and woken up wet and aching for.

She half expected him to stop her and was pleased when he responded, his rough tongue seeking hers while one of his hands slid up under her shirt. The careful, deliberate brush of his claws against her skin, up her spine, made her shiver, every muscle and nerve contracting.

Victor chuckled when her back arched involuntarily, her hips pressing forward and making her aware he was still more than ready to go.

"Was gonna say you didn't strike me as the submissive type." His voice was a low rumble she felt down to her toes. "But every time I squeeze a little or use my claws on you all I can smell is how _bad_ you need to be fucked."

It should have been frightening to know he could read her that easily, or that a man with his history could easily kill her with the hand currently resting on her lower back. But the thought of finally giving in to that need, that urge to give up control and trust him…

His hand slid lower to cup her ass and squeezed. A gasp caught in her throat and she felt a little dizzy, a little detached like she wasn't really in her body, except she could feel his claws pressing gently into her skin. Her awareness narrowed down to that, five sharp little pinpricks skirting the edge of too much and not enough.

She didn't realize her eyes were closed until he said, "Look at me, frail."

It was like being drugged, her body sluggishly obeying. She had to make conscious effort beyond the thought that if she shifted just so, he'd break skin and make her bleed. And she wasn't sure if that thought scared her or excited her or maybe both.

The heat that had been in his eyes the first time he kissed her was there now and she couldn't look away. She felt like prey but she wasn't afraid.

"You with me?" Concern threaded his voice.

"I… I don't…" Her brain struggled to form words.

"I could keep hurtin' you an' I don't think you'd want me to stop." Victor leaned forward, scent marked her cheek and murmured, "You're a kinky little thing, ain't you?"

Rae blinked, trying to force rational thought past pure sensation. "I mean, who _isn't_ these days?" Her voice sounded slurred even to her own ears.

His laugh was low and dangerous. "That pretty mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, frail." There was the tiniest hitch in his breathing; she almost didn't hear it, but it was oddly reassuring to know he wasn't unaffected. It just made her want to test the limits. "But I won't stop you, I don't mind a mouthy sub."

She whimpered when he took his hand off her ass, but it helped clear her head some. "You didn't have a bad reaction this time."

Victor shrugged. "Now that I know it's there… Doesn't seem as strong or like I gotta let it take over."

"But you still like being rough when you have consent."

He raised an eyebrow, a lazy grin curling his lips to show off his fangs. "I mean, a _little_ bit o' strugglin' I wouldn't say no to, the chase is half the fun."

"Jesus Christ." Rae needed to get off his lap or she was going to try to find out if he was actually a dom and not just talking a good game.

He must have felt her shift because he wrapped his hand around her throat with gentle pressure. It should have scared her but it had the opposite effect of quieting her mind.

"Won't push you, frail, but I'll make you beg if you want me to." He turned her head slightly, pulling her close enough to nip her earlobe and softly growl, "And I can figure out how to make you want it."

Rae inhaled sharply, overwhelmed in the best way. She wasn't a stranger to this kind of thing, had dabbled in it before, but she'd never responded this quickly or easily.

She thought she had her answer, though.

"What if I _want_ you to push me?"

She watched his pupils dilate from their usual slits, nostrils flaring before he cocked his head and grinned.

Victor surged to his feet with her still in his lap, hands cupping her ass and squeezing until he deposited her on her bed.

Rae scooted backwards immediately, heart pounding as he crawled up after her, chasing her mouth with his. He hummed into the kiss, his hand sliding up the inside of her thigh but stopping short of where she wanted to be touched the most.

She dug her fingers into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp hard enough to make him growl and bite her lower lip. His hand on her thigh tightened and she realized he'd retracted his claws when she didn't feel them. She _wanted_ to feel them.

He left her mouth, nudging her head to the side as he leaned in and said, "Move up the bed a little and get comfy."

She obeyed without hesitation, pulling her hoodie up and off but leaving her tanktop on.

He pinned her wrists when they were caught in her sleeves, effectively restraining her for a moment, his lower body heavy between her legs. She whimpered, looking up at him, trapped but not afraid.

"You trust me?"

"I trust you," she said, feeling her heart start beating again when he freed her wrists and hooked his fingers in her leggings, easing them down and off.

Almost immediately his attention was caught by the mostly-healed scratches he'd left, now little more than raised pink marks that would eventually fade to almost nothing.

Victor gripped her thigh and bent his head to lick across the scars, making her gasp and jerk at the ticklish sensation. He murmured an apology against her skin even as his teeth scraped the curve of her hip and left more faint pink lines that faded immediately.

* * *

Victor's head snapped up at the scent of tears. "Rae?"

Rae nodded. "I'm okay, nothing is wrong."

He watched her for a long moment, weighing the lack of resistance in her body and her scent. He hadn't forgotten about the scars even though he hadn't seen them until now, but they also hadn't been constantly on his mind. Seeing them brought guilt but also a dark sense of ownership, the possessive streak he knew all ferals had to one extent or another. He'd be lying if he said he completely regretted them; there was regret for how it had happened but none for having marked her, or the fact he wanted to mark her again with something more substantial, more permanent, received willingly.

"I'm okay," she said again.

He pressed her thigh down to the side, trailing kisses up the inside and nipping every few inches just hard enough to not be ticklish. A low growl left him as he nuzzled against her pussy, the fabric nearly soaked through from what had ended up being foreplay. Her scent was almost overwhelming this close but it was easier to tease apart the nuances, unique to her.

"Fuck me, you smell good," he murmured. "Bet you taste even better."

A breath shuddered out of her when he used his claws to cut her underwear on either side, carefully not scoring her skin as he pulled them off. Her scent spiked with the tiniest bit of fear but need drowned that out quickly until it was all he could smell.

Metal glinted in the light and he tilted his head, one eyebrow rising when he looked up at her. "You _are_ a kinky little thing, didn't expect to find another piercing here."

She actually blushed, her teeth catching her lower lip for a second. "Not exactly the kind of thing you just tell people about."

"Mustn't scare the prudes?"

"Something like that."

If she'd expected him to dive right in, she was wrong. He licked up along her lips and caught the tiny barbell in the hood with his teeth, tugging it gently. She cried out, hips jerking; his arm came up to pin her across her abdomen.

"You got no idea, frail, how long I been waitin' to get my mouth on you, on this pretty little pussy, every goddamn time I smell you."

"Got a little bit of an idea," she said, her voice shaky. "You're not exactly subtle."

"Mouthy brat," he said, then he pushed in and parted her lips with his tongue, flooding him with her taste.

"Oh _fuck,"_ she gasped, one hand digging into the sheets while the other sort of flailed.

He felt it touch his head and grabbed her wrist, telling her without words (since his mouth was busy) to dig in to his hair.

Victor softened his tongue and flicked her clit, growling when her hand spasmed and her fingers tightened and pulled. The only thing keeping her from pushing up into him was his arm anchoring her.

"Goddamn," he said, nipping one of her lips. "You are fuckin' soaked, just dripping like you need to be fucked."

Rae moaned, the sound going lower when he gripped her thigh and squeezed, let his claws back out just enough to dimple her skin. She gasped and he felt the tremor in her, like she was trying not to move and cut herself.

"That what you need, frail?"

"Please."

"Mmmm, maybe." He let his fingers slide against her pussy, spreading her open, claws grazing her lips and making her writhe. "Or maybe I'll just keep you here like this, get you to the edge and see how long I can keep you danglin' before you'd agree to _anything_ just to let you come."

"I will fucking _str- ah!"_ He sucked her clit between his lips and her legs tried to close around his head, her feet digging into his sides when he pressed her thighs back down, taking his arm off her abdomen.

He didn't let up, didn't give her a chance to fight, pressing two fingers into her pussy. He felt her tighten for a second at the intrusion and then she was whimpering. His curled his fingers up and stroked her, finding one particular spot that made her squirm.

It wasn't difficult to read her body. When he felt her pussy starting to pulse he backed off her clit, licked and nipped her lips and sucked marks into her thigh, his teeth digging in but not breaking skin.

She shuddered and cried out, her hand leaving his hair to wrap fingers around one of the wooden spindles that made up the headboard of her bed. He wondered if she'd let him tie her to them, and then he dove back in.

He was fairly certain she was putting off at least some pheromones, enough to make him feel a little intoxicated but not enough to strip control away. It was easy to get lost in making her feel good, dismantling all the barriers that were left until she was a shaking, inarticulate mess, her hair coming loose and sticking to her skin with sweat.

He kept her there like he'd threatened, fucking her with his fingers until she'd come down a bit, then pushing her right back to the precipice.

"Victor, _please."_ It was almost a sob, her voice hoarse from pleading, her thigh trembling under his hand.

"I dunno, you had enough?" He breathed out against her clit and felt her tighten around his fingers. "Ain't heard you beg me, frail, not like you mean it."

She made a frustrated noise.

His tongue nudged her hood piercing. "Tell me what you want."

Rae locked eyes with him. "I want you to make me come and then fuck me 'til I can't walk straight."

" _Good_ girl," he purred before he lowered his mouth again and sucked her clit.

This time she _did_ sob, her hips trying to rise as she fractured, his name turned into a breathless chant half-muffled against the pillows.

* * *

Rae's back arched, body trying to lift off the bed as her vision whited out for a long moment, every nerve focused between her legs as the orgasm threatened to drown her without Victor anchoring her.

She found him watching her, smug as any cat, when she finally opened her eyes.

He crawled back up her body, tugging her tanktop down so he could nuzzle her breasts, teeth catching one nipple in a brief little shock of sharp pain that he soothed with his tongue.

"You're wearing too many clothes," she said, pulling at his shirt when he kissed her, the taste of her on his lips and tongue.

Victor smirked and grabbed the back of his t-shirt, pulling it off in that weird masculine way all guys seemed to have mastered. It made all the well-defined muscles in his chest and arms flex and she knew he'd done it like that on purpose. Fucking arrogant show-off.

"Better?" he asked, settling back down over her.

Before she could answer he pushed his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock, the broad head brushing against her still-sensitive pussy. She shifted her hips and hissed when he kept himself from entering her, sliding against her slick lips and bumping against her clit.

He braced himself over her, bending his head to kiss her while still somehow managing to keep her from rocking onto him. "You in a hurry?"

"What, am I _rushing_ you?" she shot back. She groaned when he dipped in a couple inches, even that little bit stretching her more than she was used to.

"Could you even make me stop?" His voice was that dangerous purr again, she could feel it in her chest pressed against his. "Or would you be too busy beggin' for my cock?"

She should've known he'd lean in hard on the dominant thing. And if he wanted to play that game… "Why would I beg for something I've never had? I don't know how good it is."

His hips surged forward and she regretted it for half a second, the ache between her legs increasing sharply as his thick cock thrust into her. It stole her breath, a moan caught in her throat.

"Object lesson, frail: be careful what you wish for." The words were growled against her ear, and she had no warning before he pulled back and then thrust in again, his hand on her knee pushing it up so that he went even deeper until he was buried all the way inside of her.

She couldn't come from penetration alone but the pain almost drove her over again, setting off sparks of the need that had dimmed a little, endorphins making everything feel good.

" _Fuck_ that's a sweet little noise you make when it hurts." He rocked his hips, grinding against her. "An' even if you lied and said you didn't like it, your pussy would give it away."

Rae moaned and shook her head.

Victor chuckled. "I felt that, frail. You like it, you _need_ it, need to feel like I'm not gonna stop 'til your brain doesn't know if it feels good or not."

She knew he wasn't telepathic but he could read her just as easily, scent and body telling him everything he wanted to know about her. He didn't have to rely on what she was saying, which was a damn good thing because the combination of pleasure and pain was making rational thought shut down and she wasn't sure she could communicate verbally.

It also meant she was right on the edge of subspace, the altered state of mind she could only ever find in sex with the right person, someone she trusted and felt safe with.

"Hey, you with me?" Victor had stopped moving and his voice held a note of worry.

She opened her eyes and found his full of concern. She shook her head slightly. "Yeah, I'm… Fuck, having a hard time not…"

He looked confused for a second. " _Oh."_ He shifted, drawing himself out of her body but was stopped by her legs hooking around his hips.

"Didn't say it was a bad thing, or that I want to stop." She used her own strength to pull him back in, shuddering at the slow drag it caused. "But you wouldn't know I'd gone under and I don't want you to think you'd done anything without my consent."

She saw the shock in his eyes, then the gratitude; maybe she could read _him_ a little, too, in her own way.

"My fault, really, I'd forgotten how easily it happens." Rae sank her fingers into his hair, dragging him down for a kiss that he returned with only momentary hesitation. His fangs caught the delicate skin on the inside of her lower lip and she felt him tense.

"Victor." She looked up at him. "We'll negotiate better in the future, but right now I'm giving consent for pain and fucking, and I don't want you to stop unless I say 'red light.'"

He growled low in his chest and she swore she felt him swell inside of her. "Biting?"

She couldn't help the way she clamped down on his cock. "Yes, please."

He didn't give her a chance to breathe, he just pulled her legs up so they were around his waist and rocked his hips once before he did as she'd asked.

It took a few thrusts for her to adjust to him and she was thankful he wasn't longer, the head of his cock just barely bumping into her cervix even when he shifted to ride higher and bottomed out. Her own hips rocked with him, her nails digging in where she clutched at his upper back.

He fucked like he fought, hard and smooth like he could go for hours without tiring, which wasn't surprising. What _was_ surprising was that he talked.

"You feel good around my cock, frail." His voice was a purring growl beside her ear, against her chest. "Wanna feel you come while I'm inside you, wanna feel how tight you get when my teeth are in your neck."

His words dissolved into a chuckle. "Yeah, I felt that, you like the thought of wearin' my mark, don't you?"

Rae bit her lip but it didn't stop the moan. She was slipping further, driven deeper into something bigger than her, like she'd moved past the concept of linear space and the confines of her body. She felt his hand slide down to cup her ass, changing the angle so that the head of his cock dragged over the perfect spot, but she couldn't find the words to ask him to use his claws.

"Fuck, I'm so close." She felt his breath on her neck, the gentle scrape of teeth. Her fingers sank into his hair and made him purr, "That's it, frail, just a little - -"

His breath caught in his throat and his rhythm faltered half a second before he growled and buried his fangs in her neck. His hips snapped forward and she felt his cock pulse inside of her but her awareness was narrowed down to twin points of pain and her own second orgasm stealing her breath.

"Damn, sweetheart, you got my shoulders pretty good with your nails," he said as she was coming back to herself.

"Shit, I'm sorry, are you okay?" Speaking took conscious effort, her brain dragging itself out of almost-subspace.

Victor laughed. "I can take the damage and I like the pain." He shifted to lay next to her, tucking himself back into his sweatpants. "C'mere."

"Much as I'd love to stay here, I need to get cleaned up." She extricated herself from his arms. "I promise I'll come back, it'll just be a few minutes."

"Mmmm, fine."

Rae pulled her tanktop off on the way to the bathroom and dropped it into the hamper just inside door. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and raised an eyebrow at how much of a mess she was, with her hair tangled and a perfect imprint of Victor's fangs at the curve of her neck, sluggishly trickling blood. A slight bruise was already forming around it.

She knew she'd have to hide that from everyone else. She was already used to it, had learned to hide the bruises and scratches that came from the kind of sex she liked, but Victor being the one to leave those marks wasn't going to be popular with anyone and she wasn't ready to deal with condemnation for it.

By the time she'd cleaned up some and was brushing out her hair, Victor appeared behind her in the mirror.

"Thought you were just gonna be a minute," he grumbled, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"Things were a bit messier than I thought they'd be." She leaned into him when he nuzzled her head, soaking in the contact he seemed more than willing to give while still being a little bit shocked at how much he wanted to always be touching her. Cats were usually solitary creatures but this one wouldn't leave her alone.

Victor chuffed at her. "I mean, that's kinda what happens after sex."

"You've never had to deal with condomless sex as a woman, you don't get to bitch about how long it takes to clean up." She finished braiding her hair and secured it with an elastic off the bathroom counter.

He didn't let her go when she turned, his gaze drawn to what she thought were her breasts until his claws grazed the tattoo that hugged her ribs along her left side.

"Why a bee?"

Rae laughed softly. It was a fat little bumblebee, with a dotted line to show its flight trail, the line curving into a heart in the middle. "Stupid quote I saw online once about filling your heart with bees, so that way if anyone ever breaks your heart, they'll have to deal with the bees."

Victor dipped his head and kissed her, gentle now, like he was memorizing how she tasted. "Any other body mods?"

"Not yet, maybe in the future. You don't care, do you?"

"Nah." Before she could protest, he picked her up bridal-style and carried her out of the bathroom, back into bed.

She squirmed against him but he held fast, his body spooning hers. "It's not even dinner time, I don't feel like sleeping."

"Mmmm, don't care."

"You're a cuddle whore, you know that?"

Fangs grazed the back of her neck and made her heart rate spike. "Still don't care."

She sighed. "Fine. Have your catnap. Can I read or something?"

The answer was a happy sigh and a little wiggle that made her snort in amusement as she grabbed her tablet off the nightstand.

Maybe someone was playing a trick on her, but as she felt Victor settle at her back, she found herself staring at one particular line in _Pride & Prejudice, _her favorite book.

" _ **I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."**_

It was easier to just chalk it up to coincidence and get lost in Lizzie Bennett's world while Victor dozed behind her, a solid wall of warmth.

* * *

 _Koshechka - "kitten" in Russian_


End file.
